


Sable Skirts

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AO3 exclusive, Alternate Universe, Harem!Erebor, I don't know, OC, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Hobbit - Freeform, Violence, everyone's an asshole in this one, i'm trying something darker, non-canon, okay, please don't read if you're easily triggered, warning this is not fluffy in the least, would love feedback however
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Warning: this is darker than my usual work and will/may include non-con/rape, violence, blood, and mentions of self-harm. Proceed at your own caution.Keris is arrested after she is caught running an underground publication in Erebor. Facing a certain death sentence, she may have a way out, but it might cost her more than her life.





	1. Awaiting Sentence

**Author's Note:**

> Again, trigger warning! I don't want to offend or affect anyone negatively so please be careful. 
> 
> Also, comments are always appreciated! :D

Keris had known the risks but facing the consequences was much more dire than merely imagining them. Sitting in the grimy cell; water dripping from the dank walls, the smell of worn stone and human filth. All she had lost was ever more clear to her. 

She wasn't truly sitting, more crouching. The floor was slick with an unknown substance. Its smell assured her she did not want to rest in it. They had taken her boots and her stockings, leaving her feet bare and cold. She was hidden so deep in the Mountain that the spring rains had left it damp and musty, mixed with other unmentionable fluids. She shivered, cupping her hands over her mouth to warm them with her breath.

It had been close to a day. Maybe even two. Down here there was no marker for dawn and dusk. The torches always burned dimly just outside the cells; just enough to make out the iron grate barring her in and the shadows of guards.

She didn't regret her crime, only that she had been found out. She had been right in her actions though the law would dictate otherwise. Authority, she had concluded, was not always the keeper of morality, nor the voice of reason. The king and his council signed their acts and bills their own behalf, excusing it as for the people, though it was more than not the people who suffered for the wealth of the nobles. It was that inherent disparity, the growing corruption which had driven her to act against those who named themselves elite.

She closed her eyes as another brisk draft blew around her. They hadn’t even left her a cloak; her wool tunic, topped by a thin cotton dress offered little warmth. Outside, warmth followed the seasonal rains but down there, it was not but the cold. She replayed her downfall once more.

She had known when the knock sounded who it was. There had not been enough time to cram all her papers into the stove before they entered. The mountain guards, called greybacks for the dull colour of their uniforms, burst in and seized from her the handful of parchment she had been trying to destroy. The chaos of her pens being dumped onto the floor, books being cracked and torn apart, the uncirculated pamphlets gathered and held as evidence.  All the while she had thrashed against their restraints, the cuffs scraping her wrists as she fought against them. A slap had stilled her body but not her anger. She spat at the guard who had struck her, a glob of blood and spit landing on his cheek. He hit her again, his gauntlet leaving another gash along her lip.

She was guilty. She did not presume to feign innocence. She had printed contraband. Treason, even. She had called for a break in the system; a balance of powers. The poor were only getting poorer and the rich, richer. Every week saw a new tax; tea, linen, bread...soon enough, they would pay for the very breath they drew. She had not sought bloodshed or massacre, only equality.  In the Mountain, however, that was as good as. The very structure was the physical embodiment of hierarchy. Those lower floors homed the peasants and invalids; as you ascended, merchants and lower lords lived, above the greater nobility and royal occupied the highest floor. The king himself overlooked the rocky landscape from a balcony along its peak. A beacon of the system.

Footsteps kept her from the memories that came next. Being dragged to the cells, past those she had called friends and others who were unknowingly her enemies. She had kept her head high, shoulders straights, face unyielding. She would confront her fate with the dignity she had sought for the masses. She would give them hope when despair triumphed.

She stood as the guard unlocked her door, a pair of greybacks entering. Wordlessly, they turned her around and shackled her hands behind her. They spun her to face the door and shoved her through it. She stumbled, barely catching herself. A sharp rock stabbed the bottom of her foot but she continued onward.  The walk was long. They passed the narrow windows carved into the mountainside, the light of dusk shrouding the horizon just beyond her view. Up and up and up. She had never been so high in the Mountain. The air grew warmer with their ascent but the foul stench of the dungeons clung to her.

A towering set of doors stood open, the light of a dozen lamps shining through. She was escorted inside and the buzz of voices within died. She had never seen the chamber but she knew where she was. This was the high court. That reserved for the most heinous criminals. The benches were empty and only a small group sat at the front of the hall. 

The king was the first to catch her eye though she had only ever seen him from afar. Thorin II’s dark head topped with a thick golden crown; his black doublet slashed with matching gold silk. He sat upon a dais with two others. His eyes were planted on the far wall and he seemed not to notice her despite the hush which had overcome the room.  To his left, in the place of honour, sat his heir, Prince Fili. His green eyes flitted towards you, a wrinkle in his brow betraying curiosity. His interest dissipated quickly and he pushed back the thick blond braid which had fallen forward over his shoulder. The emerald brocade of his jacket matched his eyes, though the lustre of the latter faded.  To the king’s right sat the other prince, Kili. His dark hair was slightly askew, his doe-like eyes averted as he rested his chin his hand. His leg wobbled with impatience as he held back a yawn, seemingly disinterested in the whole process.

These Durins had once been heroes. They had reclaimed the dwarfish homeland and returned their people to their rightful place. Then they had fallen into the antiquated habits of their ancestors. Those very practices which had assured the apathy of the elves during the descent of Smaug. That which had isolated Erebor from the rest of the world; the rich from the poor.  Perhaps, she thought, the dragon sickness hadn’t taken the king as feared, but another type of greed had poisoned his soul. Their entire bloodline had a tendency towards it. They presented themselves as righteous to their people but wrote deceit in their statutes. Those rumours of their baser acts; those vulgar pleasures derived from the suffering of others, travelled quickly. Keris knew, that behind every snippet of gossip, there was a sliver of truth. As it was, the indulgence of the royals was not diligently hidden; flaunted even.

Two other nobles. Dwalin, the captain of the silvercloaks, the royal guard noted for their shining capes, stood to the left of the royal dais. His own brother, Balin, stood in front of the podium. The white-haired elder was the head of the king’s council; Lord of the Chamber. The legate she had been actively opposing in her activities. Those few others present were guards; both grey and silver, lining the wall as they watched the prisoner’s arrival.

Keris was stopped before a lectern. This was her trial. Held in the last light to hurry the process. To keep quiet her crimes as to not encourage those with similar leanings. To hasten and ease her sentence which had certainly already been decided. It was a farce. Her presence allowed her no defense or judgment, truly. It was all show.  The doors were pulled shut with a boisterous clang. The silence was trapped in the hall, broken at last by the calm but ringing voice of the head legate.

“I, Lord Balin, Son of Fundin, Lord of the Chamber, do hereby inaugurate this hearing. By the law of the Mountain and ancestors of Erebor, in the name of our king and ruler, Thorin II, son of Thrain II, King Under the Mountain and Blood of Durin, recognize the defendant, Keris Wyck, charged with distribution of contraband, conspiracy to commit treason, and sedition. This trial shall now commence.”

Keris looked around as Lord Balin’s voice echoed in the silence. Though it lacked an audience, the chamber was intimidating. Her heart started beating furiously, as if it had been still before.

“Girl,” The king called to her, drawing her attention from the empty benches. His voice was frightening; deep and stony, as if he was the mountain himself. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

She swallowed as she looked up at the dais. For the first time, King Thorin’s eyes met hers. Her stomach turned sour and she fought to keep her hands from trembling. She saw cruelty in his eyes. Judgment. There was nothing she could say to exonerate herself. But she _ would  _ speak.

“Yes...I-I do,” She cringed at the stutter in her voice, “I would argue that what I wrote was not contraband, and thus the act of distribution was not treason. What I wrote was the truth. What I wrote was a recounting of hardship, of struggle, of reality. Of the very same desperation you once bore in your desire to reclaim our home.  I wrote for the washerwoman with her brood of children who must decide between feeding her family or her hearth. The cook who must choose between a room to live in or a slice of bread. I write for those who are taxed until they are starving while the nobles gorge themselves on venison and wine.”

“Enough!” The king slammed his palm upon the arm of his chair, “You admit openly to opposing the royal authority. Do you know the punishment for such an act?”

“I am well aware but I daresay that death would be preferable than living in such squalor,” Keris snapped. She could hear her pulse in her ears; feel the boiling in her veins.

Prince Kili seemed to have been awoken by the king’s outburst and Prince Fili stared between the king and the defendant. King Thorin growled, the rumble permeating the room as the venomous thoughts swirled in his maddened eyes. He stood, pointing a thick finger at Keris.  “I declare you guilty, girl!” The king roared, “On your own admission. By my authority and by the blood of the Mountain, I see you guilty of treason!.” He seemed to be struggling against his own temper, “You seditious bitch! Vile wench!”

Keris was shocked by the affront he had taken. She had thought her plea quite eloquent and had thought to accept her fate with a grain of courage. Her unwillingness to beg however had quite bothered him. Yet, she knew, whether she had spoken those words or others, she would have faced the same verdict. She was only gladdened to have spoken for herself; for the people. Even if it fell on deaf ears. Even if she fell, too.

* * *

Keris was back in her cell. The Lord of the Chamber had quickly confirmed the King’s declaration while the latter stewed in rage. He had lost his Mountain once and any challenge reminded him of his years of exile. He would see to it that it would not happen again. Even one as minor as herself was a threat.

She did not sleep. She could not. She would not bring herself to lay on the filthy cobbles until fatigue forced her to do so. These were her last days, day even, and she would see her death without piss and shit upon her dress. She leaned against the wall, trying to take the weight from her legs. The cut on her foot throbbed, likely infected from the mire below her.  She didn’t hear the approach. She was so tired she couldn’t even hear the steady drip at the back of her cell. It was only the shift of light, the grate’s whine as it was opened, that alerted her to his presence. She looked up, pushing herself from the wall as she greeted her visitor silently. She muffled the groan of pain which came with her movement.

Lord Balin entered, the door closing behind him. He looked around the floor in disgust, trying to place his feet in the less slimy patches. His glossy blue eyes found her in the dim.  “I’ve been searching you out for months,” He began; his voice a blend of gentility and menace. “This rogue pamphleteer. Rebuking every statute, every word I wrote with his own. Or rather _her_ own.”

Keris watched him. He paced two steps back and forth. The most he could afford without getting ankle deep in the sludge. A ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

“Admirable, almost. It’s quite one thing to fight one with steel, but with a pen, it is rather more intriguing.”

“Are you here to boast then?” Keris asked.

“No, I don’t like the practice truly. Modesty is much preferable.” He flourished his hand carelessly, “I am come, officially, to deliver your sentence.”

“Did it need to be stated aloud? I’m quite certain I shall have a block at my neck before the next eve.”

“That _is_ an option. Traditionally. But, the law has always been more accommodating to offenders of your...sex. It needn’t end so tragically. You are young and have many years left to you.” He rambled.

“I gave those up when I set my quill to parchment,” She scoffed.

“Would you hear my alternative or are you so set on your own demise?” 

She sighed, giving a curt nod for him to continue. He backed up, letting the torchlight stream in clearer, looking her over with an appraising eye.

“I read your pamphlet, ‘On the Sins of Wealth’. An intriguing look into the underbelly of noble pleasures and I must say, very well written. Almost accurate, truly. But I daresay our royal harem is much more hospitable than you would have it. Those dams are of high-esteem, unlike those in the lower levels. Sad little things, trading their services for a loaf of bread.”

“Because they haven’t any other choice,” She insisted, “Because you would mandate that they give up their coin for _your_ own comforts.”

“Hmm,” He gave a half-chuckle, “As I was saying. The royal harem, or 'sable skirts' as they have been so cleverly nicknamed, are not maltreated, rather they are well-kept. And in return they give their services; simple pleasures but otherwise, they live a life of luxury.”

“I’m afraid my pens have all been disposed of, otherwise I would revise that pamphlet,” She said dryly, “Why in Mahal are you telling me all this?”

“Ah, back to what I was trying to say before; my alternative…”

Keris’ heart had skipped a beat. She was sure of it. The pang in her chest was so sharp she nearly gasped. The realization struck her before he finished his thought. His offer was all too plain.

“You want me to sell my body for my life?” She sputtered.

“A skirt or the block,” He held his hand out like a scale, “It would seem an easy choice. Life or death, really.”

“But...as repulsive as the offer is, why?”

“As I said, the law is not so callous towards dams and...I like you, Keris. Were you a noble on my council, you would be an indispensable asset. And your words in court were almost endearing, if not near-sighted.” He grinned, “And well, the harem always welcome new blood and dams are as rare as ever.”

Keris looked down as her foot throbbed once more. Her feet were black with dirt, her skirts starting to stain. Her head pounded and her lip hung heavy and swollen. This was it. She would spend her last day in this cell; filthy, bloodied, and cold. 

“Can I think about it?” She asked, ashamed of herself for even considering the proposition. 

“You have five minutes,” He declared plainly, “I’m afraid I can’t wait. The block is to be brought out by day’s end, _if_ at all.”

Keris exhaled. She let all the breath leave her body as she closed her eyes. She reached up to touch her greasy hair, grasping her head as if it would split. She gulped, afraid to inhale. Afraid to continue. She wished she could stop time. Wished she could rewind. She wished she wasn’t afraid but now that she stood before death, she wanted nothing more than to run the other way.

“Alright…” She finally spoke, the cold air filling her lungs.

“Pardon, dear?” Lord Balin leaned in.

“I said alright,” Her teeth were close to chattering but it had nothing to do with the chill, “I’ll...I’ll do it.”


	2. Into the Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual warnings attached to this series. For the most part this chapter is tame and only includes minor uncomfortable incidences but nothing major (ie violence or non-con)

Keris was numb. Not that lack of sensation that comes from the cold but that which comes from impending doom. As if the world around her had dissolved and her own body was turning to fog. The sinking realization that her life was truly over. She would be alive and yet, it wasn’t really _her_ life.

_Where had that fear come from?_ The sudden and impenetrable dread of the darkness that awaited her when the last breath was spent and her blood turned cold. She had been struck by the feeling. Her stomach had churned and her entire being quivered. She didn’t want to die, but the prospect of living was little better.

Lord Balin left her with a victorious bounce in his step. She had clung to the bars and watched him go. _Why had she said yes?_ The question crumpled at the thought of the block. Bending on her knees, an ax held above her, waiting to descend, slicing through the tender flesh of her neck. That was so final, but what she had chosen was painfully precarious.

She was shivering violently when the captain arrived, but it wasn’t from the draft filtering in from the corridor. She recognized the silvercloak; his bald head marked with khuzdul ink, his beard tangled down his chest. A greyback unlocked her cell as he waited, patiently, frighteningly, for her to exit. As she stepped out, he seized her arm in his gauntleted hand and shoved her forward. Every breath he took was a growl; low and sinister.

She didn’t need to ask where he was taking her. Lord Balin had warned her that her escort would arrive soon to take her to her fate. Lord Dwalin walked faster and faster, as if challenging her to keep up. Her bare feet scraped across the stone and when she stumbled, he did not falter. Again, she was climbing upward. They passed the courtroom where she had been tried and ascended further than before.

He stopped her outside a set of double doors. They were painted a deep scarlet, images of naked dwarrows and dams dancing across the wood. Keris tried not to blush, tried not to look away. Lord Dwalin hammered on them with his metal-lined fist, the doors shaking despite their density. He tapped his toe impatiently, his hand squeezing her arm ever tighter. The door opened and a dam appeared before them; blond hair twisted in a chignon, blue eyes lined in black khol, pink powder rosy on her cheeks.

“Ah, Lord Dwalin,” She purred her greeting, “I never thought you’d be knocking on our doors.”

“Quiet,” He muttered, “I’ve come to deliver this harlot.”

He shoved Keris forward, finally releasing her. She rubbed her arm. A bruise would soon follow. She stared up at the mistress, at least she assumed she was in charge. Her air of nonchalance alluded to her precedence. “Is this her?” She frowned. She looked the new charge up and down, disgust twist her lips at the sight of the filth coating the dam’s feet. She sneered at the silvercloak but gently waved Keris forward. “You could’ve at least cleaned her up.”

“I’m not in the business of bathing whores,” He spat, turning on his heel. The clangour of his armour sounded down the corridor as he retreated.

“Come on then,” The dam motioned her inside, “Before anyone else sees. We are notoriously clean and it would not do well to have the word out otherwise.” Keris reluctantly entered, the first step across the threshold marked the finality of her sentence. Yet not so final as it could have been. “Name’s Mina. Mistress said we we’re getting a new one but I didn’t think...well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you clean up alright.” She stopped Keris before she could step further inside. “Wait here.”

Mina marched away, returning with a basin and rag. She set the water beside Keris’ feet and handed her the cloth. “Clean your feet. Easier than cleaning the whole floor.” She watched as Keris took the rag and dipped it in the basin, scrubbing her feet one at a time over it so that the water was soon brown. “What’s your name then?”

“Keris,” She answered, her voice quieter than she would have liked. Disposing the rag in the basin she stood and looked around. The chamber was large and elegant; obviously for receiving guests. Seetees, chairs, and wide divans were placed all around and a large hearth loomed over the room. Statues of gold and silver depicted scene of debauchery and paintings mirrored them in bright oils. It was all too real.

“Not a bad name,” She grumbled, “Get that basin, will you?” Mira guided her forward as she lifted the bowl of water, “Maybe Kera for the guests. A little more sensual, if you will.”

“Keris,” She asserted. “My name is Keris Wyck.”

“Fine, fine, just a suggestion,” Mira led her toward a door in the center of the west wall, a long corridor just beyond. Doors lined its expanse and it was simple enough to guess their use.

“Are you not the Mistress?” Keris asked.

“Nah, just...experienced,” She chuckled as she strutted onward in her heels, “Mistress is Dorina. She’ll be wanting to see you before you’re settled. Figure out what colour to give you.”

“Colour?” Keris repeated. She had no idea what that meant.

“Mistress will tell you all about it,” She said, nearing the door at the end of the corridor. The door was painted alabaster white and decorated with golden studs. Mira knocked, her lace-covered hand stronger than it looked.

“In,” Came the trite response from inside. Mira pushed open the door and turned back to Keris, reaching out to take the basin. “Go on then. She’s not very patient.”

Keris moved aside as Mira passed, leaving her to stare through the open door. She slowly stepped inside, a room as rich as the first awaiting her. It was smaller but just as finely decorated. A dam with thick red hair reclined on a chaise and two others shared a settee. The red-headed woman wore black, a veil hanging open from her headdress; golden coins twinkling along her brow. The others wore red, the veils pushed aside as well. Their gowns were tighter, their necklines exposing more flesh.

“Hmp, you must be the criminal,” The red-head woman remarked. She sat up slowly, crossing her legs before her, “Well you look a right mess. Mahal knows they couldn’t send me a more wretched creature.”

Keris bit her lip, holding back a retort. She should have been rude to this woman. Should have been speaking out but she was still half in shock. This all felt like some horribly twisted dream. Maybe she _had_ fallen asleep in her cell.

“I’m the Mistress, Dorina,” She announced, standing with a whisper of skirt, “You are?”

“Keris,” Keris answered once more. Her own voice gave her strength.

“Mmmm, look at you. Hard to see much under all that dirt but we’ll get you washed up and hopefully there’s an ounce of allure under there. First, however, you must be examined.”

“Examined?” Keris felt the pit grow deeper in her stomach.

“We have to know that the goods are adequate, you see.”

“And what colour to give you.” One of the girls in red chimed in, “I’d say red.”

“If only they’d send me another black veil. Far too few of us,” Dorina hemmed, “You reds are sturdy but us blacks, well, we draw that coin out.”

Keris looked between them, resisting the urge to wring her hands. It was all very sickening. They talked of their work as though they were carpenters; so casual. Keris was by no means prudish, only inexperienced. She had always been painfully bookish and had never thought physicality a necessity in her life. 

“On the divan, dear,” Dorina directed, “Try not to dirty it too much.”

Keris neared the velvet divan carefully. She turned stiffly and slowly bent to sit. She stared up at Dorina who nudged her shoulder to make her lie down. She let herself fall back, resigning herself with a repressed sigh. The Mistress lifted her legs onto the divan, reaching up to grab at her knickers. She removed them and bent Keris’ legs, pushing them apart. 

Keris’ skirts were at her waist, her bottom exposed to the other two girls, though they seemed little fazed by the scene. She felt tears prick but held them back. Not now. She held her breath as she felt a prod along her pelvis. Dorina’s long nails scratched her as she parted her lips and leaned in to look closer. A dry chuckle sounded as she poked around and she removed her fingers roughly.

Dorina spun around, her skirts twisting with her movement. She trilled at the girls, laughing as she set her hands on her hips. “I can assure she is no black veil,” She announced, “One needs not lay like a wooden board for that. But, alas, she is neither a red.”

“No?” The second girl wondered and then both girls gaped in realization.

“A rare but not unwelcome white veil. Let us hope we still have one lying around.” She preened, “Oh she will get me a pretty coin indeed.”

Keris sat up, pulling her knickers back into place as she stood and dropped her skirt. She folded her hands before her pelvis in shame. She could feel the heat gathering but still had no idea what it all meant. She gulped as the girls in red stood.

“Caina, Meha,” Dorina said, “Get her cleaned up and get her dressed. I have much to do. Much,” She pointed her finger upward to punctuate her words, “To do!”

Keris looked between the girls as they moved to usher her out of the room. She scowled at the pair who grinned at her knowingly, almost enviously. As they walked down the corridor, she regained her wits and voice. “What does a white veil mean?”

“Oh, dear, you must be so confused,” The first girl said, “A black veil is a courtesan; they are experienced, even trained, in the acts of pleasure. They are alluring and preferred by the wealthier nobles.”

“Reds, like us are your usual molls,” The second added, “We are not inexperienced but we aren’t suitable for public appearances and the like. We do our work in our rooms but are rarely invited elsewhere.”

“But whites, well they are special. Inexperienced, innocent, pure. Why, you shouldn’t be the last to know that you’re untouched, surely. Dwarrows love virgins. A rarity among such a race. Unlike humans, we set less marital importance on fucking, so many dams are uncorked by the time they wed.”

“Yes,” The second said sinisterly, “Many of us start as reds. Few are ever whites and can only dream of wearing the black.”

Keris felt as if she would melt. The heat had taken over her whole body; humiliation, helplessness, fear, dread. She had known it would happen when she had taken the deal; that she’d be taken for the first time by a stranger. Yet the white veil that would denote her felt worse than a death sentence. She was nothing more than an object, color-coded and monetized.

* * *

Keris stared at the mirror. Her tan skin was darker than most dams of the Mountain and her brown eyes added to her swarthy colouring. Her mother hailed from Erebor but her father had been of the nomads who lived on the plains. Crowfoot, as they were called. With so many fair-haired dams, she stuck out terribly, especially with their powdered faces.

Her thick hair had none of the waves or curls characteristic of the mountain folk. After a thorough washing, it hung straight and shining down her back. The girls had removed her braids against her struggling, the one known as Meha crying out as Keris struck her with her fist. They had stripped her of all she had been and replaced it with her new uniform. Likely to be soon replaced with one of red satin.

The white veil concealed her face entirely, her hair too. When she placed it over her head she felt like a specter of herself. Her gown was high-collared with long-sleeves and crisp skirts. It was a sharp contrast to those of red and black. Their veils were easier to see through; the blacks’ had their shoulders exposed and wispy skirts with ornaments of gold; the reds had only thin straps to hold up their bodices and slitted skirts. 

Meha had left, scorned by Keris’ violent resistance. The other girl, Caina, looked her over, straightening her veil before opening the door. She led her back to the corridor and through the receiving chamber. There was another hallway in the east, this one, Caina explained, led to the sleeping rooms. Here was where the girls slept; the west was where they fucked. Blacks were allowed private chambers, sometimes sharing with one other if they wished it. The reds were roomed in groups, a cot assigned to each. The whites...well, it had been a time since they had received a white. It had been before Smaug had taken the mountain, thus they weren’t entirely certain of the rites.

“Dorina says you are to room on your own for now...until you are a red,” Caina stopped before a door, “The first time isn’t so bad if you count your breaths...I can’t imagine what it’d have been like with a stranger though.” She smiled wistfully at Keris, “What was it you did anyway?”

“Made a stupid choice,” Keris answered, “I should’ve chosen the block.”

She grabbed the handle and pushed inward, leaving Caina in the hallway as she examined the room. A large bed, a vanity, adjoining bath chamber. It was better than her cell though the circumstance was just as dire. The red veil entered hesitantly, “You should have the night at least, before...that. Mistress says tomorrow would be best. All the girls who are needed are already busy.”

“Look,” Keris breathed. “I might be inexperienced but I’m not stupid. This veil will be gone tomorrow night. I’ll be getting fucked and then I’ll be left to linger with the rest of you. No need to treat me special. I’m a criminal and this is my punishment.” She turned and took the pot of eyeliner from atop the vanity. “Please, leave me alone. I just want a little time alone before that.”

Caina bowed her head and backed out of the room. Keris listened to the door shut. She squeezed the pot in her hand, turning it and tossing it against the wall so that it shattered. A black stain oozed down the stone. The smash was followed by a sudden banging; distant but thunderous. Someone was knocking at the front door.


	3. First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES VIOLENCE AND NON-CON/RAPE. PLEASE BE CAREFUL!
> 
> Bad parts will come after ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~. If you don't want to read them, do not read beyond that marker.
> 
> Sidenote: As I've never written anything like this, I am really trying to provide adequate warnings for sensitive material but if you have any suggestions, etc. or of course, general feedback, I'm always open to it.

The knocking repeated and Keris could hear the faint shift of the heavy doors being pulled open. She listened through the closed door, staunch footsteps stomping across the foyer. Faintly, Dorina spoke in her sultry way, her dusky voice greeting the visitor. She had thought it to be late; Caina had suggested that all those who had been expected had already arrived.

A deep voice, familiar and resounding, startled her as it called out angrily. “Where is she?” The king boomed.

“Who?” Keris could guess Dorina’s following inquiry even as it was muffled through the wood.

“That little wench who was writing those damned treasonous lies.” Keris froze, leaning against the door.

“She’s just arrived, your majesty.” Dorina’s voice was closer, footsteps sounding at the  entrance of the corridor. “We just got her cleaned up--”

“I don’t care if you just painted her pink and purple,” He interjected, “Where is she?”

“She’s here, she’s here, just one moment while I get her.” Dorina’s voice gave an unusual quaver of fear.

Keris forced herself away from the door. She braced herself before she turned the knob and urged her slippered feet into the hallway. Dorina nearly collided with her as she exited, grabbing her by the wrists. “There you are, girl. Hiding like a little rat!”

“Let me go,” Keris tugged her arms away from the Mistress, “I can find my own way.”

“It’s that trite tongue that’s got the king so mad,” She hissed, “I’ve never seen him so incensed.”

“Likely because you only see him without his trousers,” Keris replied. She was practicing on Dorina, knowing the king to be a more formidable foe. She needed to find her wit before she met him. “Now, please. Since he is so intent upon my blood.”

Keris marched past Dorina who pressed herself to the wall, horrified at the insolence of her newest charge. She could see the king’s figure at the end of the hallway, pacing the stone floor of the front room. Her chest seized but she couldn’t show her fear.  _ Truly, what worse could he do? Take her to the block? _ She was starting to think it the wiser choice.

She stepped into the light of the foyer, King Thorin stopped as he spotted her. His face wrinkled with confusion. Her face was hidden by the veil and he must have thought her another. Until the realization washed over him.. In an instant, his brow was lowered and he was charging towards her. His hand rose but paused, rescinding as he looked around himself. Dorina was watching from the corridor and several other dams were on chaises, with guests or various instruments, either for sewing or music.

He shook his head as if shedding an unseen mask. He swallowed and took a step back, looking down at the ghostly figure before him. Consideration narrowed his eyes and his pressed his lips together. He looked to Dorina as machination brewed within.

“Ahem, Mistress,” He called formally. His ire had slaked away and Dorina smiled as she neared, a sensual bow directed at the king, “Is there somewhere I may speak with your…” He exhaled as he thought, “White veil?”

“Yes, your majesty,” She answered eagerly, “Right this way.”

Dorina directed him to the east corridor, swaying her hips as she walked ahead of him. He motioned for Keris to precede him, which she did hesitantly. She could feel his eyes boring into her back. She could only imagine what he had in mind. Without his nephews and lords watching, he could beat her to his heart’s content. He could do it in front of his court if he so wished. She was after all, a criminal.

“The first white veil since your father’s reign, your majesty,” She said over her shoulder, “I understand her misdeeds but it is special indeed.”

“Unexpected, to say the least,” Thorin agreed but said nothing else.

Dorina stopped before a door, knocking before she opened it. She pulled a key from her corset, smiling at the king as she turned to him. “The room is yours.” He took it with a grunt and nudge Keris inside before slamming the door behind him. She turned in preparation for his assault but he merely watched her. His eyes didn’t leave her as he sat in the armchair, his air of regality never faltered. 

“I was eagerly awaiting your turn at the block this evening when my Lord of the Chamber informed me of the change in plans. He, of course, is free to judicial license but I never expected this. Why, who would want to share a bed with a treasonous rat like yourself?” His voice was dangerous, “To tell it true, I came to drag you back to your cell. To bring the ax down myself.”  He paused in contemplation, rubbing his chin with his fingers for a moment. He tilted his head slyly. “Go on, take the veil off.”

It was Keris’ only shield, hiding the fear bubbling in her stomach. She slowly reached up and flipped the veil back, revealing her face as she stilled her nerves. She lowered her hand, wanting to bunch her skirts in her fingers but she held them straight at her side.

“You don’t look so bad without all that dirt,” He remarked with a snort, “Almost like a proper dam.” He stood and she fought not to flinch. He neared, his eyes never leaving her face. He reached up and took the ends of the veil in his fingers, tugging so that the headdress came off, letting it fall to the floor. “You don’t look like a mountain dwarrow.”

“My mother was of Erebor,” She snarled, “My father was Crowfoot.”

“Hmm, explains such a seditious heart,” He said as he took a shank of her hair in his hand, feeling the silky strands between his fingers. “But I thought a ‘ _ Crowsfool’ _ wench would be better learned in the sheets. At least I’ve heard they are. Never had the pleasure of taking one myself.”  Keris bit her cheeks, wanting to raise a hand to the king but resisting the urge. If she hit him, she would surely be dead.  “Until now,” He let go of her hair and spun on his heel. He ripped open the door and called to Dorina onces more, “Five thousand gold for the white veil.”

“Five?” She peeked past him as Keris gulped. She felt the colour drain from her. She had been prepared to subject herself to an unloving buyer; she could close her eyes and wait for it to be over. Something about the king’s urgency and the anger which had driven him to the sable skirts had her terrified. He could do whatever he wanted and he surely didn’t need to pay coin to do so.

“Ten,” He said flatly, “She’s hardly worth all that.”

“She’s yours, your majesty. I shall leave you--”

“No, she comes with me,” He interrupted, “I prefer my chambers. Come, harlot.”

The king waved over his shoulder but Keris couldn’t move. He continued into the chamber, dropping the key into Dorina’s hand. The Mistress glared at her and crossed to pick up her veil, pulling it back over her face. She hissed another insult under her breath and forced Keris out the door. She knew she didn’t have a choice; this was what she had been dreading but it had turned out so much worse than she could have ever imagined. Perhaps he  _ was _ going to kill her.

The great red doors were pulled open and he strutted into the corridor, turning to the silvercloak awaiting him. “Make her hurry up, will you? She is walking entirely too slow.”

The burly red-headed guard obeyed without question. He touched the hilt of his sword and grabbed her elbow. “Walk or I’ll give you reason to run.”

She did not dare look back. Leaving the den of sable skirts was hardly a big loss, though she faced a worse fate. She watched the king’s back as she followed him, scurrying to keep with the guard’s pace. It wasn’t until they stopped before a set of oak doors carved with the image of an immense dragon that she noticed how tightly she had balled her skirt in her hands or that she was trembling. She steeled herself, forcing her fingers apart as the doors opened.

The king led Keris inside, the guard shoving her through as she took pause. The door slowly closed behind her, locking her inside alone with Thorin. Her legs couldn’t hold her. They were going to collapse and she would be a puddle on the floor. She willed herself to stay upright, watching as the king headed for a door to her left. He grabbed the handle and looked over his shoulder; his eyes were on fire.

“Well,” He said, “Before I come over and drag you myself.”

Keris gulped and hurried towards him, glad the veil was back in place to hide her dread. He stood back to let her enter first. As she stepped into the next room, a stunning force knocked her off her feet and onto her knees. She barely caught herself before her head met with the stone. The king had smacked her rear so hard that she had tears in her eyes. She heard the door click shut and she was pulled up by the back of her dress.

“Get up,” He released her. She wanted badly to reached back and cradle her sore bottom. Instead she distanced herself from the king and turned so that he could not sneak up on her. “The wine’s in the case,” He pointed towards several glass shelves set into the stone wall. “Grab two glasses. You’ll be needing it.”

The subtle threat made her chest hollow. She gritted her teeth and focused on the wine, taking a bottle from the shelf and two silver goblets from the dozen or so below. The silver clinked as her hand involuntarily shook and she set them before Thorin carefully, placing the bottle beside them.

“Well, do you not know how to pour wine?” 

She inhaled deeply and glared at him through her veil. Her hands balled into fists. She wanted badly to pour the bottle over his head. Better yet, to smash it on his skull. Leave him unconscious in his own wine. She grasped the neck of the bottle but did not move to lift it.

“If you’re going to glare at me, it’s best to lose the veil,” He chided, “And better for your aim if you do intend on trying to club me.”

She let out her breath in defeat, loosening her grip and uncorking the bottle. She poured silently, filling only one glass. Wine didn’t seem such a good idea. Maybe it would dull her senses and make it all more tolerable but her gut told her better of it. She set down the bottle and king lifted the glass. He looked at it as if admiring the sheen of the silver and placed it across from him before the other chair at the table. “Sit. Drink. And for Mahal’s sake,” He stood, grabbing her arm as he forced her to obey, “Take this off.”  He once more tore off her veil, tossing it into the hearth to burn. He pushed her down onto the chair and edged the goblet closer. “Drink before I pour it down your throat myself.” He sat once more and poured himself a cup. 

Keris drank as she watched him over the rim. He seemed to take amusement from her discomfort.  “They say it hurts for a dam the first time,” He wiped away a droplet of wine from his lips as he spoke. “They bleed, too. I figure you’ll be wearing a red dress soon enough so I guess it would be appropriate.”  Keris couldn’t help but choke on her wine, sputtering as she covered her mouth with her hand. She kept most of it down, though her nostrils burned with alcohol. The king laughed and it stoked her anger. She looked into her glass, half the wine still there. Whatever she did, he was going to make her suffer. She may as well put up her best fight.

She threw out her arm, the wine splashing across the king’s face and down his chest. She stood as she readied for his reaction. He was stunned, silent, sitting as his eyes widened at her. His mouth curled dangerously and he put his palms flat on the table, pushing himself to his feet. He came towards her and she backed away, her skirts tangling between her legs.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
TRIGGER WARNING**

She dodged as he tried to grab her, pulling out her chair to place between them. Thorin ripped it from her grip and seized her by the throat. “You dumb wench,” He lifted her, a hand on her waist and slung her over his shoulder. “This didn’t have to go like this.”

He flipped her onto the bed. She turned over and began crawling to the other side. He caught her foot and dragged her back with one hand. She could hear him unbuckling his belt. She clawed at the covers but they merely gathered under her hands. She kicked her leg, failing to shed the king’s iron grasp. He turned her onto her back, pushing her skirts up as she struggled.

He climbed onto the the bed and she lashed out with her arms, scratching his cheek before he caught her wrists and pinned them over her head. She felt his other hand fumbling lower, her legs held apart between his. He was on top of her, his face just above her. She snapped up at him with her teeth and he pulled away. He released her arms to strike her across the face. She grunted, her head spinning from the force of the blow.

She weakly tried to push him away as she looked down to see what he was doing. She tried to sit up as he pulled his member from his pants and positioned himself before her entrance. He pushed her back down, holding her with his forearm across her chest as the tip of his cock pressed against her lips. She gripped his arm, unable to shift his weight from atop her, begging him to stop.

He looked at her, smirking at her pleas and pushed inside her. The pain radiated from within, up her spine and down her legs. She nearly screamed but stifled it to a sharp whimper. He thrust again and tears were in her eyes. She sniffed and forced them back. She couldn’t cry. She could scream and shout, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him.

Thorin continued to thrust, harder and harder. He removed his forearm, raising himself slightly as he worked against her furiously. His hands closed around her neck as he began to groan. He squeezed tighter and tighter as he buried himself deeper and deeper. Keris’ vision hazed as the pain came duller and duller. Her hands were on Thorin’s but she was too weak to close her fingers around them. 

When she was about to pass out, he released her throat and gripped her hips. She was no longer struggling against him but for a breath of air. He rammed into her sharply and she yelped, warmth filling her as he slowed, removing himself from her with a satisfied sigh.

“Take that dress of,” He ordered as he bent to unlace his boots, “Now.”

Keris was shaking so bad she could barely move. She sat up and crawled to the end of the bed. She removed the one slipper remaining to her and slowly reached for her skirts, pulling them up and over her head. She was so weak she could barely think. She could only feel Thorin’s hand around her neck as if it was still there. Her throat burned and she coughed. As she dropped her dress to the floor, she saw the red which had stained the skirts. She reached down to touch herself, her hand coming away with a mixture of blood and another, paler fluid.

She tried to stand and her legs collapsed beneath her. She suddenly had the idea to run. She had stripped herself but it occurred to her to leave before he could do anything worse. Feebly, Keris dragged herself towards the door but made it barely a foot before she was pulled back by her hair. She was lifted by her scalp, exclaiming as Thorin tossed her back onto the bed. He was on her as quickly as before, straddling her as she looked up at him. She flung out with an errant fist and he caught it. She eyed his thick arms, his broad chest; he was much too strong for her.

“The pain is suppose to get better the more you do it,” He mused, reaching below himself to touch her, his finger slipping between her lips and finding her entrance. He pushed inside and wiggled around. “Let’s see if that’s true.”

He inserted another finger, thrusting in and out as she held her breath, pushing helplessly on his chest. He smacked away her hand as he tired of toying with her and once more lined himself up, thrusting into her so hard she swore. She dug her nails into his arms as he cupped her breasts trying to make him stop. He merely chuckled and continued, relishing in her resistance. 

“Don’t worry,” He grunted as he leaned closer, “I like it when you fight.”


	4. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for trauma but nothing explicit.

Keris woke in a sweat. She was curled up on the floor before the hearth. She vaguely recalled finding her way there in the middle of the night. After the king had tired of his torture, he had rolled over and started snoring like an ox in heat. She had vomited into his chamber pot and crawled before the fire with her bloodied dress as a blanket.  The fire had burned to embers, the smell of ash filled her nostrils. She heard a voice she didn’t know and rolled over, keeping the gown snug to her body. She sat up to find two figures at the table, seemingly unaware of her presence. The elder prince and heir, Fili sat with his back to her, his uncle listening to him prattle on about some council matter. Keris was in too much of a haze to be decipher their words. It would have be good fodder if she had a pen.

Slowly, quietly, she stood. The door to the right of the hearth looked to open into a bath chamber. She edged towards it, trying not to catch the attention of either dwarf. She felt the heat and turned as she met Thorin’s blue eyes over his nephew’s head. She moved stiffly, her muscles sore and tired; new bruises adding to her agony.

“Do make sure you clean yourself up before I send you back,” Keris cringed as the king spoke but was thankful that the other royal did not look back. He merely paused before continuing, his agitation plain in his voice.

She closed the door and let herself sink onto the stone against it. She could still feel him; his hand on her throat, his weight atop her, him within her. She must have looked an animal sleeping on the floor like that. _ What more proof did their elitist ilk need to assure themselves that the lower classes were lesser than they? _

She had to hold on just a little longer. When she was back with the sable skirts she could cry. Alone. She stood, crossing to the basin on the counter. There was water within, frigid and still. She found a cloth beneath in a cubby and wetted it, wiping away the sweat and filth of the previous night. She was tender around her sex and the bruise along her bottom stung. Her cheek was deep purple in her reflection and the cuts from days before lined her lip. She looked as poorly as she felt.  She pulled on the white dress, red stains dappled along the white silk. She brushed her hair with her fingers and splashed water over her face. She didn’t look any better but she felt more alert. She re-entered the other room meekly, relieved to find the prince gone. The king remained. A purse sat before him on the table, his finger fiddling with its tasseled tie.

“You may give your Mistress her payment,” He slid the purse towards you.

Keris gritted her teeth as she neared him, holding back every ounce of her that wanted to swing the purse against his temple. Her hand settled on it and he placed his atop hers. “Don’t think your treason so easily forgotten,” He squeezed her hand, “I’ll see you again.” He released her and she took the purse, tucking it under her arm. He caught her wrist before she could turn away. “Well?”

She raised a brow in confusion. He cleared his throat, tilting his head.

“Your majesty,” She forced through her teeth.

He smirked and released her. His hand lashed across her bottom once more as she turned to go, causing her to stutter step. She righted herself and continued to the door, the purse heavy in her arms. She hoped Dorina was happy with her haul. _Tainted coin._

* * *

The guards opened the red doors of the sable skirts’ den without hesitation. Keris entered, head held high despite the pain limning every inch of her body; the blood on her skirts, and the purse of coins which had bought her violation. She marched down the west wing, her rage building with each steps. She did not knock on the alabaster door, instead she charged through it. Dorina was within, half-naked with a heavily-bearded dwarf beneath her. Both looked over in shock as Keris dropped the purse beside them on the divan. “The king sends his regards,” She rasped, turning on her heel. _And I’ll send mine_ , she thought. _One day._

Keris didn’t bother closing the door. She passed others in the hallway. A few black veils, but mostly red. Meha watched her pass, visibly stunned by her demeanour. Caina met her near the room she had first been showed. She was emerging from another. She took Keris’ skirt in her hand and gave a sad smile. 

“At least it was the king,” She commented.

Keris ignored her remark and pushed open the door. “Caina, would you fetch me red attire, I suspect I’ll no longer need these.” She touched her sleeve, “And these rooms will soon be taken from me too, no doubt. For now, however, I should like to be alone. You may leave the clothes on the bed.”

Without any courtesy or dismissal, Keris made her way into the bath chamber. She jammed the door with a towel, enough that it would take time to enter enough for her to notice. She tucked herself on the other side of the counter, between it and the wall. She pulled her knees to her chest and hung her head, letting the tears fall silently. If she let herself sob, she’d lose it entirely.

She didn’t know how long she sat there but she never wanted to leave. For the first time in days she was alone. She hadn’t realized how much she treasured solace. Here, behind a stone counter, she felt completely hidden from the world.

Finally, she accepted she could not stay there forever. She pulled herself up by the stone and for the second time, washed her face. She re-entered the bedroom but no clothing awaited her. She frowned, reminding herself that Caina wasn’t her personal servant. She’d have to find it herself. That was well enough for her. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was there because of her stupid fucking fear. _How weak she was._

She pulled the door open, heading back to the front room. If Caina couldn’t do it herself, she could at least tell her where the clothing was kept. Keris was stopped as she entered the foyer. Dorina was there, hands on hips, a parchment in her hands. She was red-faced as she stared at the note. Caina was at her shoulder, a red gown and veil folded in her arms.

“Ah, there you are,” Dorina lowered the letter, “It seems you’re nothing short of dramatic every damned minute of the day. Barging in on me like a barbarian and now this!” She held up the letter and Keris crossed to take it from her. “No. You don’t read! The king has ordered it...among other absurd demands. All in the name of some convict. Sent to me against my own will. A dozen red veils for the likes of you, I swear. You--” She breathed, as if to calm herself.

“Girl,” She pointed to Caina, “She won’t be needing those,” She tucked the letter in its envelope and set it atop the red clothing. “Take that back to my chambers. I must deal with this...creature.” Caina retreated quickly, the other dams present attempting poorly to hide their eavesdropping.

“You may have that room back. I’ve not touched the bed so it needn’t be cleaned,” Keris said flatly, “I’ll take my cot with the others.”

“You will not. Will you ever learn you do not make the rules here? It seems that I don’t either.” She was about to burst at her seams, “You will retain your chambers. These,” She yanked on Keris’ skirt, "are to be disposed of.”

“Wait, I’m getting a black veil?” Keris asked in confusion.

“No!” She snapped, “Never a black veil. Though it makes little difference.”

“Right. How tedious do we have to get before you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Ah,” The mistress touched her bosom, “You are vile! How the king could ever...You, little rat, are too be gifted a purple veil. You are not to lay with any dwarf but the king and whoever he deems fit.”

Keris felt the saliva pooling in her throat. She felt as if she would vomit again. “Purple?”

“Yes...the color was retired centuries ago. King’s ceased the practice of keeping consorts and thus black veils became the royal favourites. It is always better to have more than less. And less expensive. When you dot on a whore is a kept-woman, she expects gifts. Purple is the colour of royalty. It means you belong to the king.” She reared on Keris, pointing her finger in her face, “But if you should displease him, it shall come down on me and I will surely reign down my fury on you in turn. I will not have the king storming in here as he has done and you will keep him happy. Else we could all be in the gutter. Though you’d only be going back home, I suppose.”

“And if I say no?” Keris ventured.

“Ha! The king is not requesting your permission. Now don’t be so insolent and go back to your chamber. Your robes should arrive momentarily.”

* * *

Keris stared at the rich purple satin, slit with various shades of violet and lilac. The corset was embroidered with knotted vines; the attire must have dated back centuries and yet, it suited her station quite well. She would hardly look out of place among the other skirts. At least, not for her style.

She dressed carefully, pulling taut the laces of her bodice by looking over her shoulder into her mirror. She bent her arms at a painful angle to secure them. She turned back and frowned. She much preferred the white. It was simple, clean.  A chain hung from the waist of her gown, tinkling as she walked along with the bells on her slipper. Her arms were covered with sheer sleeves but the neckline was not so high. It pressed her breasts higher on her chest, exposing enough to encourage curiosity.

“The king used to be kind,” A figure stood in her doorway. Meha hadn’t made a noise as she entered. Her arms were crossed as she leaned against the frame. “My sister knew him back in Ered Luin. He was never one for permanency, but he was nice enough. Sent her gifts, said pretty words. But she wasn’t an escort...he’s never looked my way. Red veil and all.”

“Be glad for it,” Keris warned.

“I am. I wasn’t before. I used to long for his gaze. Dream of it. A king in my bed, or rather I in his. In my place, what higher esteem could I hope for? But then, I saw you this morning.” She pushed herself from the frame, nearing Keris. The empathy in her voice was stunning. She touched the bruises along Keris’ cheeks, her sober green eyes piteous.

“I’m sorry I hit you yesterday,” Keris mumbled.

“Nah, I did the same when the took my braids,” Her lip twitched. “Besides, you didn’t leave any marks, see?” She turned her head side to side. “But the king left marks on you. Dorina doesn’t often stand for that. The last dwarf came in here and left welts on a dam, well, we never seen him again...suppose it’s different with a king.”

Keris stared at her; pondering her words. _Was she genuine or a pawn sent by Dorina?_ Judging by the overall appearance of the sable skirts, she was inclined to believe Meha. They showed no marking of rough treatment and they shared a general sense of cheer. It may have been an act for their visitors but they were not ill-supplied in their lifestyle. It was the very excess she had written against in her pamphlets. The sort she had sought to crumble.

“Thank you,” Keris looked away, backing away from the first gentle touch she had felt in days. Her skirts whispered around her legs, the bells jingled at her toes. “I think it best you go though. For both of us.”

“If you wish,” Meha replied wistfully, “But it’s rather lonely here without friends.”

“I think it better I stay lonely. The king can’t make me miserable if he has nothing else to take from me. Any sliver of happiness would welcome his wrath.” She sat heavily in the chair next to the hearth. “I really am sorry, Meha.”

She leaned her forehead against her hand, listening as the other dam left her. The door clicked shut softly. This was how it would be. Counting the dreadful minutes between the king’s calls. The calm before the storm, one wave breaking not long after the last. She hoped, at least, he would wait a single night before he visited again. She hadn’t slept properly in days.


	5. New Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: allusions to violence but overall a rather tame chapter.

The king’s golden ring flashed across Keris’ vision as his hand struck her. Once, twice, before wrapping around her throat. His dark hair shrouded his face like a curtain, the shadows pierced by his icy blue eyes. He was a demon found only in story books. She could feel him taking over her body, slithering inside.

She awoke with a gasp, her hair snaked around her neck and across the pillow. She groaned, the pain of reality returning to her. Her foot was tender from the gash left there in the dungeons, her face half-swollen from the fists of dwarves, and her body welted and discoloured from the king’s cruelty. Her first full night’s sleep had been worse than her waking hours. Tossing and turning only to sink into maelstrom of terror. Her nightmares reflected the days prior. All the despair and chaos distorted by her subconscious.

She pushed herself up with shaky arms, rubbing her temples as she sat tangled in the covers. Movement in the corner of her vision frightened her. She clutched the duvet between her fingers, staring at the dwarf sitting quietly, watching her. Lord Balin had moved the cushioned armchair to the side of her bed; his legs crossed lazily before him as he balanced a ledger on his knee. His fingers twirled the pen between his fingers, an inkwell unopened upon the small table a foot away. 

“Good morning, Miss Wyck,” He held the nib of the pen up to the light, examining its finely sharpened tip, “I guessed that you’d be tired from these last days so I thought to let you rest a while.”

“How long have you been here?” She asked defensively, folding back the blankets as she shimmied to the other side bed. She set her feet down, pulling herself up by the bedpost to stand. She glared at the Lord of the Chamber, keeping a wary distance.

“Not very,” He grinned; the look unsettling her. “Please, you may as well sit.” He gestured to the edge of the mattress nearest him, “I only want to talk.”

“The last we spoke, it did not end so well for me. I haven’t the spirit to cast my fortunes anon.”

He sighed, setting aside the pen. He slipped an envelope from the ledger and removed the parchment from within. It was familiar. It bore the king’s seal, the wax broken previously. He unfolded the paper and read in an even voice.   “'No reading is to be permitted. Nor writing. The consort must avert her eyes when not at the service of the king. The consort must not speak unless addressed first. The consort may not converse with any beyond the king’s purview. The consort must obey the word of the king without question. The consort is only to appear publicly if so summoned by the king. At meals, she must seat herself on a cushion upon the floor. There she will take her meal from the plate allowed her under the king’s suggestion...' The list goes on.”

Keris sneered, baring her teeth at the elder lord. Dorina had recited to her the same rules the previous night. She had barely listened to the Mistress, knowing that whether she adhered to the code or not, she would not be spared the king’s ire. She tore her deadly gaze from the advisor, looking down at the plum muslin of her sleeping gown. Every piece of clothing allotted her was purple; from the lightest lilac to the deepest violet. She almost longed for her former white, even preferred the grime of the dungeons.

“You should consider yourself quite fortunate since we last spoke. The king has taken favour in you despite your crimes. Going so far as to gift you with the royal color. I daresay you should be thanking me.”

“You know as well as I this isn’t an act of kindness,” Keris spat. She was certain he noticed the new bruises along her cheek and down her arms. The hand marks darkening her neck. And he knew _who_ had left them.

“I had expected him to send you to the axe. He seemed to disfavour my sentence. His is not one for leniency. Our king must have a firm hand if he is to keep this mountain for his people.”

“For his people. Sounds like pretty words to appease the masses. Pulling the wool over their eyes as he robs them blind.” She smiled bitterly, “He realized before I that this is a sentence is worse than death. It is the same truly, only drawn out. And he can count down the days whilst tormenting me.”

“I understand. You’re adjusting to your new position,” He dismissed her protests, “Yet, if it such a despairing circumstance, would it not be more pleasant with an ally. Surely, it is better than none.” Keris scowled, surprised but cautious of his offer. “It is almost heartbreaking to see such an intelligent dam waste her talents on such capers. Unfortunate that you should now find yourself without use for your wit, but I know it remains.”

“Get on with it,” She snarled.

“I am here to offer you an alliance in your time of need. How dull the company must be around here, not too mention, you’ve not much to barter with the king.”

“I haven’t much left but my integrity, and I shall not sacrifice it for a deceptive worm such as yourself.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the lord who had robbed her of a courageous end. He was rather skilled at making one believe his lies.

“All I ask of you is a list. A couple names. Little to ask for loyalty.”

“You have your spies. Surely, they were the ones who found me. I would not sink so low as to draw others to the same fate.” Keris squared her shoulders. 

“You would protect those who haven’t even notice your absence. If they have, they do not mourn it.” He slithered. “You have sacrificed yourself for not and you would continue to suffer on behalf of the ignorant.”

“I’m not interested in your offer. If I could, I would renege on the last.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Venom burned in her throat.

Lord Balin tucked the letter back in its envelope, gathering his ledger and pen with a suppressed sigh. He turned back to her, a pitying smile upon his lips. “The king has ordered it that you remain confined to these chambers. Guards will be stationed just outside to make sure of it. The other dams have been ordered not to disturb you.” He tucked his book under his arm, holding the pen and well in his hand as he approached the door, “The king will come at his leisure.” He paused, turning back to her, “Think on my offer. Should you change your mind, you may ask one of your guards to fetch me.”

* * *

Keris had longed for solace since her arrest but now she regretted even that. Three days. Alone. The only other person she saw was the greyback who came in with her meals. He set down the tray wordlessly without looking at her. When she asked him a question, it fell into the pool of silence, evaporating in the air. She had given up by the end of the second day. She hadn’t eaten until the third. Even then, all she could stomach was the bread. She still felt sick. Recalling what had happened only nights before; thinking of what was to come. _But when?_ The anticipation was almost as bad as the abuse.

She laid on the floor, arms raised, framing the blank piece of ceiling above her. She had spent the previous hours pacing. She hadn’t even a window to look out of. Her purple skirts fanned out below her, her hair drawn back into a single braid. She kicked up her legs to keep the muscles from cramping. She closed her eyes and sighed, dropping her arms across her chest. She was sure she would soon go mad. She’d almost rather be shivering and filthy in the dungeons below.

She remained as she was on the floor, hidden by the bed. She played with the chain around her waist, running her fingertips across the silver links. She froze as she heard heavy footfalls. It was usual to hear smaller, daintier steps as a dam rushed to her next visitor or their voices as they gossiped in the corridor; their giggles sparking a curious envy with Keris. She often heard the guards shifting their weapons or trading posts, but something about the sheer decisiveness of these boots had goose pimples pricking at her flesh.

Keris rolled over and pushed herself to her feet. She straightened her skirts and sat herself in one of the straight-backed chairs beside the small table. She waited, fingers tapping, stilling them as the footsteps stopped outside her chamber. She could hear the king’s voice and her blood turned to ice. _Stop. Stop shaking_ , she urged herself.  Her chin quit its trembling just as the door handle clicked and the door opened revealing the figure of her tormentor.

The king entered, his eyes searching the chamber until they landed on her. The door closed as his lips curled in disgust, a growl rising from his throat. “Is this any way to greet a king?” She sat, dumbfounded and unmoving. He crossed to her and grabbed her upper arm, ripping her out of her chair and forcing her onto her knees. She tried not to let him bend her but she could not stay rigid beneath his strength. He let go of her arm, and took her chin in his hand. “I did not say you could look at me.” He shoved her head roughly as he released her, jarring her neck.

Keris looked at the floor, tracing the spirals of the carpet with her eyes.

“Well, I’m still waiting for my welcome.” He said.

“Good afternoon, your majesty.” She figured it was more peaceable to appease him. At least in this.

“Mmm,” He grumbled, “Not bad.” He sat in the chair she had formerly occupied, the heat of his eyes never leaving her. She kept perfectly still, not daring to move. Perhaps if he grew bored of her, he would leave without event. “It is rather dim in here. Another lamp, harlot.”

She took his curt order and stood slowly. She expected him to push her back to her knees and chide her again. He didn’t move and merely watched as she found flint and sparked the lamp she had left unlit. She placed the flint back on her nightside table and turned back to the king. Her eyes met his and he glowered at her. She averted them quickly.

“Come here,” He ordered. She made to step forward but he raised his hand, “Ah, on your knees.”

Keris inhaled, holding her breath as she gathered her skirts and lowered herself to her knees. She wobbled forward on them, her gown tangling in her legs despite her efforts to hold them forward. She stared at the king’s boots, stopping before him diligently. She knew he was watching so she kept her face placid.

“You’ve not learned my rules,” He scolded. “You greet me with eyes raised, knees unbent, and a sour look on your face.”

“Your majesty has forbidden me to read,” She replied in a dulcet tone.

“You have ears. Do you not listen?”

“I can but they have only been recited to me once,” She excluded Lord Balin’s reading as she hadn’t truly been listening, “How can I remember so many so quickly?”

The king sighed. He was visibly irritated. His hand formed a fist on his knee and he sat stiffly in the chair. “Don’t be smart with me, harlot. I shall have the list brought to you and you best learn. Should you be caught with any other literature, or even a pen, I will break your fingers myself.” Keris kept her eyes on the leather of his boots. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, your majesty.” She could hear the anger rising in his tone.

“Look at me,” He commanded. Keris raised her head and met his cold blue eyes. He smiled and she gulped. It was a rather unpleasant smile. “You look better. Less bruising.” He reach out to touch her chin. She noticed the faded scratches she had left on his cheek. She wanted to laugh. It was a small victory but likely the only she would have. “Well, aside from these.”

His fingers grazed her neck. The flesh there was imprinted with the outlines of his fingers. They were not so obvious as before, but they remained. “White suited you better,” He looked to her bodice, his hand straying lower before rescinding. He reached over her head and brought her braid forward, yanking off the tie as he let her hair fall loose. “No braids.”

Thorin stood suddenly, nearly bowling her over. She backed away, keeping on her knees as she feared being shoved back down. “When I next visit, you best know the rules.” He glanced around the room, “Else you’ll not be so fortunate in your abode.”

He turned his back to her and crossed to the door. He paused, his hand hovering over the latch, waiting silently.

“Your majesty.” She said through gritted teeth.

He grasped the handle and pulled open the door, closing it harshly behind him. She stared at the stone frame, still on her knees. She leaned back on her heels and breathed deeply. She was safe. For now.


	6. Dinner Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing especially triggering in here. Thorin's a dick as always but really nothing of not. 
> 
> As always, I look forward to any and all feedback :)

It was another day before Keris received another visitor. Well, not entirely a guest. The rules had been delivered to her shortly after the king’s departure and she spent the doldrum hours re-reading the parchment, if only to cherish the act itself. She hadn’t set eyes on a single letter since before her arrest. A greyback entered, keeping his gaze away from her as if merely looking at her would sully him. 

“Come.” He bade. His dark braids joined the locks on his head to those in his beard. The intricate twining of hair made her lack of even more obvious. She would not be permitted any braid unless the king saw fit to gift her with one. Black veils were sometimes allowed to braid their hair if favoured, but reds were never allowed the privilege. It set them apart from the noble dams. And purples? That was to be decided by the king himself.

Keris pulled a veil over her face, the sheer purple sateen just below her eyes. She was not to remove it outside of private chambers and only with approval of the king. Though she knew she would only be led to the lair of the beast, she was overwhelmed to be free of her chambers. To walk the painted corridor to the brightly-lit foyer, through the large red doors and along the stone hallways. Her muscles loosened with each step.

A silvercloak stood at the doors of the royal chamber. Lord Dwalin was as unimpressed by her existence as he had been previously. He eyed her with disdain and dismissed the greyback. His grey irises burned as he tried to glare past her veil. He reached over and knocked on the doors, announcing her arrival as he pushed the left one open.

“The harlot is here,” He boomed.

“Consort,” The king appeared in the doorway as he corrected his captain, “When an audience is expected.”

Thorin looked to Keris as she quickly tore her eyes from him. This night would be painful enough without starting out poorly. “Your majesty,” She kept her voice even. 

He nudged her elbow, ushering her inside as he continued to speak to the silvercloak, “The rest should arrive shortly.” Keris’ skin prickled. _ Who else was he expecting?  _ The door closed behind the king as he followed her, his hand grazing her hip as he passed. The long table which sat central to his receiving chamber was set with seven plates, two at the head; one smaller than the other.. A purple cushion sat upon the floor between that chair and that to its right. She presumed that was to be her seat. It seemed the king had invited company to witness her humiliation.

The king turned on her and she quickly knelt as she felt his icy gaze. She had nearly forgotten the rules again. She didn’t want to give him further reason to assault her. He gestured for her to rise and she obeyed wordlessly, staring at the floor as his boots entered her vision.

“Look at me,” He ordered. She raised her eyes, his own staunch beneath his thick brows. He touched her veil, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “We will see if you’ve learned your rules well. Should you prove yourself not entirely dull, you may just be permitted past the doors of your pitiful chamber.” He stared at her, his cheek twitching impatiently.

“Yes, your majesty,” She answered, lowering her eyes once more.

“You make take your seat.” He alluded to the cushion, “When my guests arrive, you will show them courtesy as you have me. If not, there presence will not deter me from correcting you.”

“Your majesty,” She muttered, crossing diligently to the cushion and lowering herself onto her knees. The king sat at the head of the table, looming over her. She knew he was looking at her but kept her head straight, eyes glued to the legs of the table. She felt like an animal; nothing more than a pet.

A hammering at the door broke the silence. The doors opened, both of them this time, and Dwalin announced the guests with greater formality. The royal family entered and Keris rose, bowing her head reverently. She could feel them looking at her, the tension rising around her. The king’s sister sat in the chair to her right, closing her in between the Dowager and her brother. Prince Kili sat at her other shoulder with his princess, Morinda. Across from him, to the king’s left, was the heir, Prince Fili and his wife, Kita. She felt entirely out of place.

When all the Durins were seated, Keris returned to her knees. She fought to keep eyes downcast as the king welcomed his relations. Her attention was drawn by Dis’ fingers, her long nails digging into the arm of her chair as she gripped it furiously.   Keris dared to peek upward. Prince Kili’s wife was none so subtly leaning forward in her seat to look around her husband, her eyes boring into the unwelcome consort. The prince sat stiffly in his chair, trying to ignore her as his mother glared down at her with revulsion. The other princess was no doubt casting her own poisonous glance in the same direction.

“I did not say you could look up,” Thorin’s hand pushed the back of her head forward, forcing her to lower her chin. She apologized quietly and folded her hands nervously before her. His hand remained on her head and he began to stroke her hair. She wanted so to bite it.  _ Why should she not act as the animal which he treated her as _ ? She bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the vicious urge.

“Fili, what of this compact with Dale? Has the human yet agreed to terms?” The king spoke as if she were not there.

“Not as yet. His latest letter--”

“Brother,” Dis’ deep voice stifled her son’s. Her tone was brimming with anger. “Would you sit and pretend you haven’t brought a whore to the dinner table?”

“Sister, I think you forget yourself.” Thorin reproached.

“Why do you insist on bringing this creature? And before my sons’ wives. What should they think--”

“They should think as any dwarrow dam does,” The king replied bawdily, “Don’t act as if they are so innocent.” Morinda gasped, her cheeks turning red with insult and embarrassment.

“Have you not just considered a contract with Dain’s daughter? Would you void it so quickly?” Dis challenged.

“My betrothal stands,” The king asserted. This was the first Keris of heard of a prospective queen. It made her insides squirm. “Our own father had his courtesans and surely you were aware of Vili’s trifles.”

“Don’t you speak of him like that,” Dis roared, “You shall not disrespect the dead.”

“Cling to your ignorance, sister, but it does not unsow his sins,” The king taunted, “My wife will be as loyal as any. Why, she has many bastards for half-siblings.”

“It is different when they’re your husband’s,” Dis recoiled, “No wife would stand for such flagrant disrespect.”

“I am the king and she will be _my_ wife,” Thorin seized his sister’s wrist, forcing her hand to release the chair. He squeezed and she hissed in pain. Prince Kili stiffened at her side, watching with restrained anger. “She will do as I bid. As will you.”

Dis went silent, struggling with her brother until he released her arm. The doors opened suddenly and servants entered, interrupting the tense silence as the set platters on the table top. Thorin’s hand returned to Keris’ head, his fingers stretching over her hair as he pushed on her. She had forgotten herself, only then realizing her mistake in looking up at the heated argument.

“Eyes down,” The king growled, leaning closer so that only she could hear, “Another mistake and I’ll lash you across this very table.”

Keris exhaled, pursing her lips as she toyed with the hem of the cushion, the silver thread along its edges catching under her nails. She didn’t move and listened to the clink and clang of dishes as the royal family served themselves. A small plate appeared under her nose, morsels of meat and a handful of potatoes across the silver. 

“Eat,” The king commanded and she took the plate without looking up. She ate slowly and silently, the food tasteless in her mouth as the king resumed his conversation with his older nephew. Keris didn’t need to look to know Dis was still fuming at her. She didn’t want to look, only to disappear.

* * *

The next day, Keris was permitted to leave her chambers. The greybacks were relieved of their station outside her door and she took her first independent steps into the corridor. Despite her mistakes, she had earned her release. She gathered that her presence alone was enough to secure it. She had realized she had been invited as a bane to the royal family. A pawn in Thorin’s endless schemes. She was learning that he tortured all in his company. The only thing he seemed to take pleasure from. Even so, it was little comfort to have company in one's misery.

She entered the foyer, excited despite her circumstance. She was still restricted to those rooms behind the large red doors, but it was preferable to her chambers. There were windows here; tall and narrow, curtained in deep scarlet. There were other people, too, though they had little interest in her and vice versa. As she sat on a settee, two black veils rose from their divan and left with muttered displeasure. They did not deign to conceal their disapproval. The reds appeared nonplussed, carrying on without notice of her.

The cushion beside her compressed with a gust of air. Keris looked over as Meha and Caina squeezed in beside her. The two girls smiled back at her, though the latter’s gaze was less than welcoming. 

“We were wondering when we’d see you again,” Meha chimed, “We tried to get past the guards but they were want to unsheath their swords.”

“The king looked less than happy when he visited,” Caina intoned, “We had thought perhaps he was reconsidering your new status.”

“Oh, Cai, be quiet,” Meha shook her head, “You’re just jealous. How oft has the king actually set foot in here? And twice since Keris’ arrival, you must be mad with envy. As the rest of the girls are.”

“Jealous?” Keris scoffed, “Misplaced hopes, if I say so myself.”

“Caina’s not the only one--”

“Meha,” Caina said in warning, “Do stop rambling.”

Meha shrugged off her companion and carried on. “The black veils most of all. A red has never been summoned by a royal. Ever. We see to the lower nobles...and the occasional merchant. But the blacks, well, Dorina mostly, they’re no longer needed by the king. Dorina has to settle for mere lords and the other dams can only dream of being the next to catch the king’s eye.”

“Mmm, you set this place on it’s head,” Caina grumbled, cleaning her nails as she spoke.

Keris frowned. She only seemed to inspire hate these days. And yet, change too. She had brought chaos to the Sable Skirts; a disorder she had longed for in her previous life. One which she still desired. There was a brief spark within her, but it was merely a fool’s dream. Without her pen, she was powerless.

“Consort,” The voice was sour and its bearer looked more so. A dam in a black veil approached, “I hope you enjoy your days in purple. I hear the king has accepted his cousin Dain’s proposal. He’ll soon be wed and you’ll be in red….” She looked between the three upon the settee, “You’ll fit in much better with your friends then.”

She swirled around in her skirts, a vile smirk upon her lips. Keris shook her head and leaned back on the cushions, crossing her arms. So it was sealed. The king was to marry, but she couldn’t be sure if that would free her of his wiles or bury her deeper.

“Don’t worry about Bezi,” Caina said, a sympathetic smile on her bowed pink lips, “She’s always in a mood.”


	7. Awakened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES VIOLENCE AND NON-CON/RAPE. PLEASE BE CAREFUL!
> 
> Bad parts will come after ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~. If you don't want to read them, do not read beyond that marker.
> 
> Sidenote: As I've never written anything like this, I am really trying to provide adequate warnings for sensitive material but if you have any suggestions, etc. or of course, general feedback, I really appreciate comments!

When peasants decided to marry, they didn’t wait to do so. Keris found it an odd practice. According to tradition, royal couples were to be kept apart in the two weeks preceding their union. Neither were permitted to see each other as an act of abstinence. It was purely a facade, almost farcical in her eyes. The poor princess of the Iron Hills was to be locked away for a fortnight before she vowed her life to King of Erebor. Keris only hoped he treated her better than he did her. Of course, this dam had yet to offend his majesty.

The foreign princess, Fallah, daughter of Dain II Ironfoot, had arrived a fortnight after the king had accepted her father’s proposal. In those two weeks, Keris was summoned by the king daily; she sat on her cushion as he took his meals or met with a lord or even one of his nephews. It was more painful than those nights when he didn’t let her go. Sitting there on her knees, a noble across from her, shooting her shaming looks, others lecherous. Thorin’s hand would stray to her head as it had at the royal dinner or he would reproach her for some unwitting error. Then she was left alone with him and his whims. She fought but it only seemed to drive his fervour.

In the two weeks preceding his wedding, he would have nothing else to distract him. His work would remain but she'd not be excused for the presence of his betrothed or the feasts held in her honour. Certainly, she expected, he would be ever more prickly. And she would not be spared any of his displeasure.

Keris awoke sitting up, as she often did when she spent a night in the king’s chambers. When he tired of her, she would wait for him to doze and tiptoe away from the bed. She could not will herself to remain beside him. Often, she would find her way to the bath chamber and empty the contents of her stomach or tend to the new bruises left by the king. She would then sit in one of the armchairs against the far wall, staring into the hearth until her eyes were forced to close and she slept.

What she did not expect were blue eyes staring back at her. The king had his hands on the arms of the chair, bent over and staring her down. She pressed herself into the cushion, willing the cold air to turn her to ice. If it did not, the king’s icy gaze would. He smiled, a sinister look, and leaned in closer. She had nowhere to go. He placed a sloppy kiss on her mouth, nibbling her lip harshly as he pulled away. He had never done that before.

“I suspect you’ve heard that my betrothed has arrived.” He stood straight. She could see his erection through the thin cotton of his undershorts. He reached down to rub himself as he turned away. He removed his hand and pulled up the other armchair before her, sitting with legs apart. “She’s a pleasing creature. Doughy, in spots, but not unattractive.” She wondered why he was telling her this, “A meek dam.”

Keris bristled. Thorin noticed and chuckled. “I’m not wise in the ways of peasants, but I suspect they sleep in beds, same as us.” He scratched his beard as he spoke, “If I wake to you in these chairs again, I’ll have you stand the whole night. You’re a rather ungrateful wench. You could be serving a dozen nobles a night if it weren’t for me. _Or_ you could be resting in your grave.”

“I’ll stand,” She sneered.

“Hmmp,” He scoffed, “You trite bitch.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood, storming towards her. He grabbed the back of the chair and dumped her onto the floor. He pulled her up by her hair, nearly off her feet as she kicked out. He dragged her to the bed, letting her fall onto the mattress. He tore of his undershorts, catching her as she tried to rise and get away. He turned her, twisting her hair and wrapping it around his hand. He forced the straps of her shift down her shoulders, the fabric crumpling at her feet. He pushed her face first onto the bed as she reached out helplessly, bunching the covers beneath her as she tried to escape. His weight kept her in place as he parted her legs.  He nuzzled into her neck, sinking his teeth in as he entered her abruptly. She grunted but did not scream. Would not. He removed his mouth, his breath hot in her ear.

“Don’t think I’ll forget about you so easily after the wedding.,” He thrust harder and harder, pulling her head back further. She closed her eyes, his weight bearing down on her, trapping her. She knew he wouldn’t forget. Not until she was dead.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* * *

The Sable Skirts had been endlessly busy since the arrival of the Iron Hills princess. Her entourage was large and included her very own father. As Thorin had alluded to, he was not shy with courtesans. In fact, he welcomed both black and red veils. He arrived the first night, bawdily calling for a ‘finely-tongued wench’. A chamber was kept aside for him since as he visited almost daily. Keris had been spared his boisterous shows, until then.

She was in the foyer when he arrived. He called to Dorina who appeared with spritely eagerness. He looked around at the colourful veils around the room; Keris’ solitary purple catching his eye. “Ah, a pity,” He decried as he neared her. “The royal harlot. Perhaps my cousin will let me a visit before I depart. He’ll be busy these next nights with his new wife.” The king laughed deeply. His amusement at speaking of his own daughter so filled Keris with disgust. “Maybe he won’t notice if I give ya a tumble,” He reached down and fondled her breast. She shoved his hand away, standing angrily. He chuckled once more, the beads at the end of his braided beard tinkling against each other. “Go on. Too many loose lips here. The last I took from my cousin, well, he didn’t speak to me for a full decade. Mayhaps, tomorrow night.”

Keris turned away with a muttered insult beneath her veil. The king’s large hand struck her backside in dismissal and she winced. She hurried her step, eager to be away from the dwarf before his lust got the better of his sense. The other dams giggled as Dain turned his attention on them, a shudder traveling down her spine. That was all she was: a piece of flesh sold to highest bidder. She was the king’s property, another toy for his amusement.

The den turned raucous; dams and dwarrows chasing each other down the corridors, slamming doors, laughing, squealing. Even those chambers reserved for sleep were occupied. The king’s wedding had set loose a fervour at the peak of the Mountain. Keris tried to ignore the cacophony outside her door, burying her head beneath her pillow. At least this night she would not be bothered; not by any other. Only by her thoughts, not they have ever stopped. They couldn’t. It was at these moments with nothing but the dark for company, that her circumstance descended upon her. She had sold her soul for her life, and what a meagre life it was.

Her dreams were little better. The king breathed fire down her neck, flames licking at her flesh, burning it away to her bone. She was drowning in a river of murky violet water, her lungs filling with sour wine. She washed up in her former cell, soaked and singed. Before her stood a block, an ax leaned against it. She crawled towards it, setting her neck in its crook. She whispered, her voice growing louder and louder. “Do it.” She begged, “Do it. Do it. Do it.” The ax was raised, its wielder faceless, it descended with a whistle.

Keris awoke at the whine of hinges. Her heart was racing and she swore she could feel the bite of steel along her throat. A dark figure appeared from behind the door, closing it with a click. She sat up, staring at the broad-shouldered demon looming closer to her bed. One of Dain’s dwarves must have wandered in, or maybe it was Dain himself. The figure removed a heavy robe, slinging it over a chair. He climbed onto her bed, his arm snaking around her waist as another went to her neck. She shoved him away, bending back his fingers as he cried out.

“You dumb bitch!” Thorin exclaimed, his voice adding to her terror.

His hand struck her across the jaw and she reeled back, her head cracking on the headboard. She gripped her skull as her ears rung. She almost wished it had been a stranger. She whimpered, touching the tender spot where she had hit the thick wooden frame, curling up as she turned onto her side. The king pressed his body to her back, exhaling into her neck as he had done in her dream. It burned all the same.

“Shhh,” He hushed her pained moans, his nose grazing her hair as he spoke. “My wife’s asleep. Cried the whole time I was inside her...dutiful but stiff as a board.” His hand slithered under her arm, cupping her breast as he pulled her to him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” She whispered.

“Since when do you tell me what I should do,” He tweaked her nipple painfully.

Keris held back her pained grunt as she let the king’s hand explore her body through the thin silk of her sleeping gown. His touch was rough and she felt him growing hard against her. It was revolting and she tried not betray he disgust. She hadn’t the energy to fight him that night. Besides, that’s why he was here. He wanted her to protest, to struggle. He longed for her anger; her fear. She closed her eyes as he pushed her onto her back. She wasn’t here. It was all a nightmare. Just a dream. She just prayed she woke up soon.

* * *

The king left as quickly as he had come. Keris head still ached from her knock against the headboard. She had a hazy recollection of Thorin leaving. She didn’t sleep, only laid in her misery. She rose when all was quiet; when the dams and dwarrows had ceased their discordant festivities. She was tender as she always was after a visit with king; dispirited for the first time.

She sat in the stone tub within her bath chamber. The hot water prickling at the numbness which had overtaken her. Knees to bent, arms crossed, head hung, she trembled. She didn’t want to cry so she didn’t. She thought of the poor dam who had married the cruel king but envy darkened her heart. Her blood was royal enough that she would not be treated with the same disdain. Why, Thorin had let her be after her tears had fallen. Keris’ own pain seemed only to inflame him further.

 _Why had she just laid there and let him molest her?_ She was exhausted, fighting every day to keep going, but that wasn’t an excuse. She couldn’t give in. She hadn’t said yes to life to live it in such anguish. There must have been something she could do. Every little move mattered in battle. That’s what she had always believed. It was why she had first set her pen to paper. What had driven her to treason. Every strike, every curse, every jab against the king mattered.

Keris vowed to gather her wits. She had to. Then she would think of a battle plan. Her life was not over. Not yet.

* * *

Keris was restless. She had to do something. Anything. The king’s wedding night had been like a splash of cold water in the face. It wasn’t all about her. Her sufferings were shared by every dam called a Sable Skirt. Maybe they did believe this was a place of privilege, but she suspected many of them felt as used as her. _How could they not?_ Many serving a different suitor every night. Acting as an illicit tryst for a dwarf legally bound to a loveless marriage. A scourge to the wedded dam; despised by every noble of her gender outside those walls. They were just another group oppressed by the noble classes.

It wasn’t until she heard the visitors from the night before leave that she emerged from her chambers. Her room lacked the space she need to pace. In the foyer, she could wind around the furniture; walking the twists and turns of her mind around the the room. The other dams were mostly asleep. Many of them only just retiring though the morning had already arrived. A few dams dozed there in the foyer; curled up on a settee or draped over a divan. Left where there tyrants had tired of them. Discarded.

She was surprised when Meha emerged from the east corridor. She wore only her sleeping gown, her eyes tired and hair in tangles. She smiled as she saw Keris, crossing the room to sit on the chair closest to where she was currently pacing. Keris stopped as the other dam watched her, tucking her hands behind her back as she tried to still her nerves. She chewed her lip as she thought.

“Don’t you ever tire of this place?” Keris asked. Meha’s cheeks twitched but her smile remained.

“No...not really,” She looked around at the bodies littered across the chamber.

“Second daughters, unmarried, no dowry...you’re only choice is to come here. And for what? Fancy cushions and wine. The coin you ply your services for doesn’t even touch your fingertips. Dorina and her black veils, they spend it all on themselves as you're derided for your station in this Mountain; even in this very den. Separated by colour.”

“Keris,” Meha said, “You shouldn’t be saying this.”

“Or what? How can it get worse? This is my sentence; my punishment. If they wanted to silence me, they should have killed me. That disparity I spoke against before is present even here. Black and red veils divide us, but we’re the same. Do you think those outside these walls think we are any different from the next skirt? Do those wives left to empty beds think any of us better than the next?”

Keris was pacing again. Impassioned as her thoughts bubbled and spilled out. This world was not so different from before; it was all too familiar. “Below, before, it was rich and poor; gorged and starving; privilege and deprived. Here, it is red and black; feather mattresses and cots. This is just shred of the inequality that exists in Erebor. Meha, look at me? I wear purple but that doesn’t make me any better than you. I should be sleeping on the cot below yours. Better yet, both of us should have beds. Neither of us should be wearing these veils. Rich against poor, dwarf against dam. Is this what we came for? Is this the dream our people clung to back in Ered Luin?” Meha stared at Keris, wringing her hands in her lap. Keris glanced around herself, the dams around her were still asleep.

“We shouldn’t be speaking of this,” Meha said.

“No, maybe not aloud,” Keris yielded as she sat across from Meha, “But we cannot ignore what is right before us. Change is not impossible, only intimidating.”


	8. Cogs in a Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankfully, apart from some brief nudity, there's not much to report in this chapter. As always, I appreciate feedback/comments and anyone who takes the time to read :)

Keris’ head was heavy. It felt as if she had turned to stone. There was a heat burning beside her, the arm around her waist singed her flesh. When in the king’s bed, she would draw her knees up and hug herself, sidling as far from her bedmate as she could. Even then, he would find her. He knew his touch brought her nothing but pain. She preferred those nights when he sent her back to the den.  His snores were reassuring. He rumbled like a bull readying to charge. Slowly she reached down, her spine tingling with revulsion as she moved his hand and wriggled out from beneath his arm. He rolled onto his back but did not wake. She placed her feet softly onto the woven rug, steadying herself with the bedpost. Her stomach roiled fiercely, threatening to rise in her throat. 

She found her gown crumpled on the floor, the deep purple silk a puddle at the foot of the bed. Hissing from the pain of the bruises on her thighs and arms, she pulled the dress over her head. Her veil was more elusive, hanging over the headboard just above Thorin. She neared quietly, looking down at the king as he dozed. How easy it would be, then and there, to bludgeon him. If she were stronger, she could hold a pillow over his face until his breath was stilled. Those were the twisted fantasies which kept her going.

She reached out, tugging the sateen headdress from the wooden frame. A hand caught her wrist, holding her in place as she looked down in fright. Thorin’s blue eyes had opened, his sleepiness not enough to stifle his innate cruelty. His grip was tight, painful.

“What are you doing?” He growled.

“Getting dressed,” She answered meekly.

“For what?” He released her and she pressed her arm against her chest, rubbing her wrist.

“Just because….your majesty,” She lowered her eyes as she saw the anger rising in him. He sat up, a yawn rising through him like a silent roar. 

He hung his legs over the side of the bed, the blanket falling away to reveal his morning erection. Every day without fail, he woke thus. Keris closed her eyes and took a step back. The king stood, making no effort to hide his nakedness. He crossed to the dwindling embers in the hearth and set a heavy log on top. He stirred it with the poker until the flames began to lick at the drywood.  He crossed to an armchair and sat heavily. Keris tucked her veil into the belt of her gown as she waited. For an order, for her dismissal; anything.

“Well,” The king grumbled, “Put the kettle on.” Keris hung the iron vessel over the flames, backing away before the fire could boil her skin. She folded her hands before her and kept her eyes on the floor. “Coffee.” Thorin said curtly, “Two cups.”

She nodded and waited for the kettle to quake. The steam spouting forth assuring her of its readiness. She set out two silver mugs and measured the grinds into the grated filter of the matching urn. She took the boiling kettle and poured it over the ground coffee, the aroma permeating the chamber. She closed the lid and waited for it to steep, counting the seconds.  She gulped as the king stood suddenly. She exhaled with a shiver as he walked away from her towards the window. He pulled open the painted shutters and the amber glow of dawn poured over the room. The king’s broad figure was limned in the early light, the grey streaks of his hair shining more pronounced. He turned back to her, stretching his arms above him. His desire had not softened.

As he lowered his arms, he touched himself, stroking his member carelessly. “My wife should arrive soon enough. Pour the coffee and leave me…” He looked down at himself with a smirk, “She can take care of this herself.”

Keris kept herself from shaking as she followed his order. Relief overcame her, but her fear remained. He could easily change his mind within the next minute. She set down the urn and scoured the rug quickly for her slippers, tucking her feet into them and pulling her veil over her head, straightening it as she neared the door. She bent her knees and bowed to the king, “Your majesty.”

He waved his hand at her dismissively as he passed, sitting at the table with a mutter. She did not waste any time in leaving. She closed the door as she entered his receiving chambers, whisking past his desk as she fought not to race for the corridor. Her skirts billowed, rustling a pile of papers to the floor. She paused instinctively to pick them, her breath catching as she held the stack of blank parchment in her hands. She stood and looked over the desk. _The king would not notice a dozen empty sheets, would he?_

Keris bit her lip as she considered the paper in her hand. Slowly, she folded them in between her fingers, glancing back at his bedroom door. She kept the smile from her face as she tucked the bundle into her bodice so that its edges were indiscernible. She swallowed, slowly tiptoeing to the other side of the desk. Carefully, she pulled out the small drawer. There were several pens within and she took the plainest one from the bunch. 

Her heart was racing as she hid the pen alongside the parchment and found a small inkwell in the next drawer. She tucked the round bottle under her cuff, her sleeve cradling it at her wrist. With one last look to the bedroom door, she skittered across the receiving chamber and to the door. She prayed he did not notice, and if he did, she hoped he only suspected his own thoughtlessness.

As she entered the corridor, she couldn’t breath. _Why had she done that?_ It was a certain lashing should she be caught. If not worse. _Why had she traded her body for her life if she would only commit the same crimes over?_ She was almost tempted to return what she had stolen but she could not force herself to turn around. She carried on, her mind already spinning with words.

Turning the next corner, she almost collided with another figure. Keris quickly moved aside as the Captain of the Silvercloaks nearly flattened her. He walked beside a dam with curly orange hair. Her cheeks were rosy and round, her figure plump but unevenly curved beneath her sapphire gown. Her sky blue eyes met with Keris’ and the dam’s eyes blinked in a moment of curiosity as if trying to see beneath the consort's veil.

Keris quickly lowered her eyes and carried on with a bow of her head. Lord Dwalin growled and ushered the dam forward, nearly elbowing the other as he did.  She turned the next corner frantically, skittering down the corridors until she found the towering red doors. She pushed inside, the foyer empty and quiet. She hurried to her chamber and pressed herself to the door, her breath coming in pants.  She crossed to the cushioned arm chair and reached into her bodice, pulling forth the parchment and burying it in the crevice just behind the seat. It was deep enough that any sitting in it wouldn’t notice its presence. The pen she slid behind the frame of the mirror standing over the vanity table, and the inkwell she hid behind the vials of scented oils kept in the bath chamber. If one was found, she would still have the others.

* * *

There was so much to figure out. _What to write? How to get it out of the den? What to do when the paper was used and the ink dried up?_ Keris had not thought the operation through. She sat in foyer, wringing her hands beneath her sleeves as she thought. An hour earlier, she had watched the laundress on her daily visit; gathering hampers of clothing from the rooms, piles of sheets loaded into her cart. It had given Keris some ideas but she had to be patient.

As it was, she couldn’t be the one to write her thoughts down. The authorities knew her hand and it would be easy enough for Lord Balin to figure it out. She would have to build a new network just to reconnect with her old one. The lower floors of the Mountain felt like another world. She’d never be afforded a visit below; not unless she were returned to the dungeons.  She would simply have to bide her time.

The other dams began to appear and their nightly guests dispersed. It was a grim scene. Many still wore the smeared make-up of the night before; the clothing wrinkled and askew, hair messy. There was a grey acceptance to their farewells; a subtle shame. It was always the day after when it felt the worst. The luxury these dams lived in was not enough to dull the reality of their livelihoods.

Caina was among the stragglers. She smiled at Keris. Meha was usually the friendlier of the two. Caina neared and sat across from her. She yawned, untangling her hair with her fingers and her veil sagged over her face.

“You’re back early…” She mused, “Did the queen figure it out at last?”

“You’re rarely awake when I return,” Keris shrugged, “How would you know if I’m early?”

“Suppose you’re right.” She grinned, “But aren’t you nervous?”

“Nervous?”

“The last purple veil was dismantled by a vengeful queen. S’why there haven’t been any in centuries. Surely you know this,” Keris nodded as she listened. She knew the history of Erebor well enough but these events were not so plainly listed in books. “I can’t imagine a newlywed bride would be ecstatic to learn of her groom’s dalliance.”

Keris didn’t reply. The thought had certainly crossed her mind but she knew that Thorin’s will would withstand any other. Even if the queen learned of her and loathed her, neither would have any effect on their circumstance. She looked over Caina’s head as a black figure appeared behind her. Bezi crossed her arms as she came up beside the two dams.

“It won’t be long before the queen knows,” She announced. She had apparently been listening to their conversation. “The lord I was with last night says his wife had recounted to him the gossip. She’s a lady of the court so I gather the queen will soon catch wind of the rumours.”

“She’s a young dam, though.” Caina argued, “She mightn’t have the resolve to face another woman.”

“She is the daughter of a king,” Bezi declared, “She is used to having her way.” She tutted between sentences, “I swear,” Her voice lowered as she leaned over Keris, “Your little affair with king could cost all of us. Best to be subtle about it.”

Keris’ nostrils flared. It was not an  _ affair  _ and it surely wasn’t her choice. She pushed herself to her feet, her nose almost touching Bezi’s. “Best to mind your business, Bezi. Last I checked, you’re serving a different lord each night and I’ve only got to warm the king’s bed.” The words sickened her but she wasn’t about to let the black veil take another swipe at her, “You haven’t got to worry about the queen. You’re little more than gnat flying around her head. Too insignificant to even bother with.”

Bezi’s eyes widened in disgust and she recoiled as if she had been slapped. “You little twat. Another month and the king will tire of you. You’ll be lucky to wear black when he’s finished with you.”

“Be that as it may,” Keris stepped forward and the black veil continued to retreat, “But today my gown is purple and yours isn’t. When the king’s eye falls upon you, I’d be more than happy to hear your opinion. Now, leave me alone. I haven’t the time for your nonsense.”

Keris looked around Bezi at Caina who sat with her mouth agape, “Caina, let’s go. I must speak with Meha.”

The black veil was visibly affronted at being ignored for the likes of a red. Caina rose without protest, avoiding the gaze of the other dam. Keris led her past the divans and to the east wing, leaving Bezi in stunned silence.

* * *

Keris sat alone in her grim chamber. She was only permitted visits from the other dams and there were few she’d welcome. As it was, they were all too busy for her; enthralled with gossip, sewing, and their own vanity. She had spoken with Meha earlier, asking after their previous conversation but Caina had not left them alone. She wasn’t sure she could trust the latter just yet.

A small knock came at the door but it did not disturb her. The other girls rarely allowed such courtesy before entering and the King would have hammered upon the studded wood. The laundress entered; her dull blond hair in a low braided chignon. Her brown uniform paled her already ashen skin and brought out the jade in her eyes. It was the same dam who came to empty her hamper twice a week.

Keris had worked as a laundress when she was young. Her mother had been a laundress in both Erebor and Ered Luin. She had introduced Keris to the trade when she was still an adolescent. She had worked her way through several other trades before the Mountain was reclaimed and she had returned home. She knew many of the lower stations who worked the lesser jobs in the deeper floors of the kingdom. Many of those labourers were instrumental in her previous operation.

“There is not much to be collected,” Keris said. 

She hadn’t dared speak to the laundress before. She had been too entangled in her own misery. Too detached. She had only wanted to slip into oblivion. She rose and approached the canvas hamper hanging from a wooden frame in the corner of the room before the blond servant could reach it.  The dam’s brows drew together as she warily eyed Keris. A mixture of confusion and caution. She had likely been told previously not to speak with her or perhaps she thought her position unsavoury. Keris was growing use to the disregard; as a peasant, it came natural.

“I’m Keris,” She introduced herself. “I figure since you’re here so often, I should know your name.”

“With all due respect, my lady, I am here to collect your laundry and nothing more.” She scowled. She was disgusted by the courtesan addressing her so abruptly.

“I know that. And I am not a lady.”

“I know you aren’t,” She nearly spat, “I am not so ignorant as to not know of your work. I was merely being polite.”

Keris was hurt but had expected the distaste. Lowly or elite, those who bared their bodies for coin were the same filth in the eyes of many.

“Then be polite and tell me your name.”

She stared at Keris a moment, trying to figure her out. She sighed before she answered. “Collette.”

“Collette…” Keris thought. It sounded familiar. “You are Wenda’s friend, correct?”

“Wenda? How do you know her?”

“You know what I do now but not before.” Keris said solemnly, “I wasn’t always a whore.” Collette inhaled sharply at the word. She had been certainly thinking it but hadn’t dared to speak it. “What I want to do still. I want to change this mountain; change us. Why, you have one of the dirtiest jobs in Erebor and you are paid in little more than stone and darkness.”

“What do you mean?” She was even more unsure.

“I can’t explain here.” Keris was not so dull as to think the others wouldn’t dare to eavesdrop. This den was run on hearsay. “Go to Wenda and mention my name. She will explain everything.” Keris unhooked the canvas hamper and lifted it from its frame. She handed it to Collette and took the clean bag from her, setting it where the other had been. “Tell her I send my regards and that I live on.”

Collette frowned, thinking. She took the half-filled hamper and slowly approached the door. Keris was sure she would do not but grimace at her as she carried on in her daily duties. She watched hopelessly as the laundress left. That had been her last chance.


	9. Worlds Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris finally meets the new queen of Erebor but the encounter turns sinister for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely a more triggering chapter and I will do my best as before to denote the rough parts for anyone who wants to avoid them. Be warned there are graphic depictions of violence and rape in this part and I don't want anyone to be set off or made uncomfortable about it. This is your fair warning.
> 
> Bad parts will come after/between ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~. If you don't want to read them, do not read beyond/between that marker.  
> As always, comments and or feedback is welcomed. Sharing any thoughts or feelings too considering the content. Thanks to any and all who read.

Keris sat at her vanity staring into the mirror. She did this often but she could never focus on herself. It was a blurred reflection; a shadow of what she had been. She had nothing else to do. The other dams were often busy or she found herself weary of their company. While Meha was friendly enough, Caina rarely left her side, especially when Keris was around. So it was that her plotting had come to a standstill.

She shifted on the chair, the polished wood adding to the tenderness of her bruises. She had been summoned by Thorin the night before. She had been silent and pensive. Thinking of Collette and the pen hiding behind her mirror. If the laundress did not take the bait, it would snuff out the last of her hope. It would secure her fate and that of the Mountain. It would all be over and she would live out her days in misery, waiting for her end.  The king had not liked her silence. She had failed to hear him or even respond to him several times. When she did not address him as ‘your majesty’ he had snapped. She felt the soreness in her scalp still. He had seized her by her hair and dragged her across the stone, kicking her until the breath was knocked from her. She wheezed and he ordered her to say it. 

“Your majesty,” She had choked out. Her lips formed the words now. She had said them over and over as he feigned deafness. He held her down then and did as he wanted with her, right upon the stone floor. He had pushed her head down roughly, never untangling his hand from her hair. She didn’t move; didn’t fight. If she had, she would have started crying and she did not let him that satisfaction. Her apathy was her last act of defiance.

She was shaken from her thoughts by a flurry of voices. She heard the groan of the large red doors of the den, muffled by her own walls. She knew the sound well; she had come to loathe it. The dams only grew louder before a hush took over. It was eerie. Keris stood, preparing herself for the king. He only came there when he was angry. _Had he noticed the missing items from his desk?_ _Had Collette sought out Wenda and betrayed her attempt at collusion?_

She straightened her veil and held her breath. She faced the door, her muscles stiff with dread. Footsteps drew nearer; armour clinked. There was a guard accompanying her visitor. _Was she to be dragged back to the dungeons?_ She heard the growl of Dwalin’s voice; a warning and the sharp response of a higher voice. Almost childlike. Keris stared in confusion as her door clicked and opened suddenly, a whirlwind of emerald skirts entered.

It was the same dam Keris had passed the day she had stolen the stationary. Her orange hair was drawn back with a clip, the wild curls fighting to break loose from the silver. Even her braid seemed to fray. Her cheeks were round and rosy with anger. Her blue eyes swirled like a maelstrom. Her hips were wide, her waist finely curved, and her bosom disproportionately small. She looked like her father for Keris could guess that this was Dain’s daughter, Fallah; the queen. Thorin’s wife.

“This is the harlot?” Fallah asked but Dwalin remained silent at the door as she stomped across the carpet. She stopped short as if repulsed by Keris. She hissed and looked to the bed. “You slut! I bet you spread your legs right over there,” She snarled, “With my own husband.”  Keris gulped but did not speak. She merely watched the dam descend into her tirade.  "You trollop who has seduced the king; do you think you could steal him from me? You of whore’s blood!” Thorin had said worse to her. The words were dulled daggers; dragging across her flesh but unable to pierce it. “This hussy he dresses in purple as if she were better than any other whore.” 

She neared Keris who did not flinch. Fallah was taller than her, but most were. She watched the queen placidly as she reached out and tore off her veil. “Let me see this strumpet who would humiliate me before my kingdom.” She had caught a piece of her hair as she ripped away the veil and only then did Keris wince. “You will not lay with my husband again--”

“Your majesty,” Dwalin intoned from behind, “This is enough. We should go.”

“No, no,” Her voice was shrill. She sounded like a child having a tantrum, “I am queen and I say when we should go.” She turned back to Keris, “You will close your legs or I should have those parts with which you have ensnared my husband burned off.”

“I--” Keris sputtered. _What could she do?_ The king would not let her abstain for her own fear...This dam was foolish indeed. She did not know her own husband. Did not know how dangerous he was. “If I could stop him, I w--”

“You will stop,” Fallah slapped her, “Or I will make you.” She inhaled sharply and Keris saw the tears forming in the queen’s eyes. This dam was young; naive. Only a month of marriage and she thought it sacred still.

“Your majesty,” Keris bowed her head. 

“Lord Dwalin,” She whisked around as if she had not heard the other dam. “You have heard my declaration. Should this slut disobey my royal order, you will incur the punishment.”

“My queen,” The captain let out a long breath, “You must leave. Now.”

“You are sworn to obey the royal family, are you not, Lord Dwalin?” She was almost shrieking, “Will you break your oath?”

“I will follow the royal will,” He countered. Keris cringed. Fallah didn’t realize hers was not the strongest will in the kingdom. Dwalin had one master and he was a cruel one indeed.

“Great,” The queen waved the silvercloak out the door, “Now we go. My ladies will be waiting for me.”

The captain bowed and led his queen out the door. Keris stared at the floor until they were gone. She did not look up when Dorina entered. She turned away, returning to her vanity. “You’ve done it now, wench,” The mistress huffed, “The queen will have all of us working for coppers instead of gold.” She appeared in the mirror, her red hair like snakes around her face. “Must you insist on riling all of the royal family?”

“You are stupid, Dorina. I can understand that young queen’s ignorance, but yours is truly astounding.” Keris gripped the edge of the vanity. “The queen has no power over me. If she did, I would have asked her to have struck me down then and there. Now, leave me be.”

Dorina gaped at her in the mirror. “You vile--”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it before. I do love your little pet names but they aren’t so creative as the king’s.” Keris tapped her fingers on the table and pretended to preen herself. “Don’t you have some lord waiting in your chambers?”

Dorina swatted the back of her head with a scandalized gasp. Keris showed no recognition of the strike and continued her feigned avarice. The mistress left her, the door slamming like thunder. A storm was coming.

* * *

Thorin did not call for her the night after the queen’s visit. Or the next. Or the next. It was a rare three days of peace. Keris welcomed the monotony but couldn’t escape the foreboding which had formed a cloud around her. She paced endlessly. When she was with Meha, she said almost nothing and heard less. She had wanted to keep trying but all sense had flown from her. She was waiting for the hammer to drop.

As she languished in her insomnia, she would retrieve the pen from behind her mirror and twirl it in her fingers. It was comforting to feel the instrument in her grip. She would write invisible letters in the air but her hand would stop as she found herself drawn back to the unknown. The inevitable. She knew it wouldn’t be long; whatever Thorin was planning. Whatever his wife’s impulsiveness had incurred.

When the knock sounded at the door, she did not answer right away. It was only when it sounded as if the wood would splinter that she found her strength. She hid her face beneath her headdress and pulled open the door. Lord Dwalin stood waiting; nostrils flaring with impatience. The other dams were gathered at the end of the corridor, tittering openly.

“Come on,” He growled. Keris’ hand lingered on the door handle. She stared at the silvercloak. “Gaping at me won’t help you none, harlot. Go before I drag you out of here screaming.”

Keris obeyed. She had to be numb. She stepped out mechanically, pulling the door closed behind her. She walked beside the silvercloak, keeping pace with him. The rhythm kept her calm; helped her gather herself. Fighting against her own doomed hopes. _Perhaps the queen hadn’t been figured out and regretted her threats?_ Thorin was only calling to torment her in his usual way. _Was that truly any better?_

As they reached the last corner, Dwalin caught her arm. He shoved her against the wall, his fingers digging into her upper arm. “My brother was a fool to keep you alive. Far as I’m concerned, you deserve all the suffering’s that’s been given to ya. If the king’d allow it, I’d follow the queen’s orders.”

“If I could go back, I’d have chosen the block,” Keris pushed him away, doing little against the bulky soldier. His hand formed a fist but he held back his ire.

“I can’t give ya to the king with bruises,” He stepped back, “But I expect you’ll be leavin’ him with a few.”

He grabbed her shoulder and turned her back down the hallway. They rounded the corner, both of them bristling at the other. Dwalin stopped at the king’s door and knocked as he always did. He opened the door, ushering her in with a snarl.

“My king, I’ve brought the...consort as you requested.” The captain spoke curtly, his dismissal silent; a nod of Thorin’s head. 

Keris kept her eyes down as she always did in the king’s quarters. The silence was stifling. They were not alone. Two slippered feet sat to the left of the king at his table. “Your majesty,” Keris greeted. _Follow the rules and you’ll be okay. Well, you’ll survive._

“Sit,” The king toed the cushion next to his chair.

“Thorin!” Fallah exclaimed, “You would bring this whore in my presence!? How dare you. I was obliging enough to ignore your mistake but I will not have you flaunt her before me.”

“Quiet,” He snapped. Keris looked up as the queen gasped. Likely, she had never been spoken thus by the king. “Sit, now.” He ordered the other dam, “And eyes down.”

Keris slowly crossed the room. She felt Fallah’s eyes boring into her. Malice singed her as she lowered herself onto the cushion. The king reached down to toy with her hair, his finger trailing down her cheek before resting on her shoulder.

“I believe you two have already met anyhow,” Thorin said.

“Thorin, I will not have this. This slut, you cannot have her in my presence.” Her voice was trembling with anger. “You are my husband and you would disgrace me so. My father--”

“Your father sold you to me for a discount on silver,” He scoffed, “You are my wife. You serve me; not the other way around.”

“I am your wife and you should not stray from our marital bed.” She lashed.

“Perhaps, dear wife, if you were more accomodating on your back, I wouldn’t need a consort. So long as I get a child on you, you need not be concerned where I lay.” He chuckled mockingly, “It might just be prudent idea for the two of you to get to know each other. My whore might just be able to teach you something.”

“Do not speak to me like this, husba--” Fallah cried out.

“Enough! You will not talk back to me as such. You will shut your chubby little lips.” Thorin removed his hand. Keris glanced up as he grabbed his wife’s wrist and twisted her arm awkwardly at the elbow, “You have disserviced me. You tried to go above my authority and intimidate my consort. You thought to take the law into your own hands and to deal your own justice.  You need to reminded of a queen’s place. A wife’s duty. So you will be quiet and you will watch.” Thorin pushed back his chair, “You will learn to be a good wife; a compliant and selfless dam.”

Thorin released her and nudged Keris with his knee. “Go to the bedchamber and get undressed.” He stood and pulled his wife to her feet, “Dear wife, you will see how one serves the king of Erebor.”

Keris did not move. She kept her eyes on the table leg and let out a shaky breath. “No.”

“What?” Thorin hissed.

“No.” She raised her eyes defiantly. “I will not do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your protests have never stopped me before,” He let go of Fallah and seized Keris by her throat. He squeezed as he looked back at the queen. “Sit down.” He ordered the other dam. He swung Keris around, crashing her head into the wall with a crack. The chair screeched across the floor as Fallah took her seat once more, nearly falling over in her panic.

Thorin turned Keris back to the table, her vision swimming and her head throbbing. He tore the laces of her gown and forced it down her arms roughly, scratching her as he shoved it past her hips and it pooled around her ankles. He ripped away her veil and directed her towards the table. She was too weak do more than groan, barely catching herself as he bent her over the table.

He reached down and lifted her head by her hair, turning her head to face Fallah who stared back terrified. Her gaze lingered on previous bruises still visible along Keris’s flesh. He kicked apart her legs and the queen squeezed shut her eyes. 

“Open your eyes,” Thorin ordered. 

Keris could feel herself wavering. She was aware of the pain and her own fear, but her vision hazed. She felt the king fidgeting around as he unbuckled his belt and pulled himself from his pants. Fallah watched in horror, her blue eyes filling with tears. Her freckled cheeks were reddened as the streaks formed across her flesh. Their eyes met and Keris nodded as if accepting it herself and assuring the dam across from her that it was fine. It was normal for her and that thought made her eyes burn. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t._

She held her breath as the king pressed his cock against her entrance. He entered her sharply, her hips slamming against the wood painfully. “A queen should learn to stay out of a king’s business,” He snarled as he thrust harder and harder. He began to groan and grunt.

His hand went to the back of Keris’ neck to hold her steady. He smacked her ass so hard she whimpered. Fallah was sobbing as she clasped her hand to her mouth. Keris shook her head groggily. She felt warmth streaming down her hairline. She was bleeding. The king buried himself in her, his nails digging into the flesh of her rear.

“Fuck,” He rasped under his breath. The queen’s reaction seemed only to be adding to his pleasure.

Keris looked at Fallah, she reached out her hand weakly; fingers trembling along the table top. “It’s okay,” She mouthed to the queen. “It’s okay.” The king twisted Keris’ arm back so hard she felt a snap. She exclaimed in pain.

The king brought both his hands around her neck, choking her as his grunts grew louder and louder. He brought himself to his hilt with a rough, painful thrust and he sighed, his seed spilling inside of her. He lingered in her, moving slower as he rode out his climax. He pulled himself out of Keris and she remained against the table, her legs shaking. He forced a finger inside of her, feeling around before pulling out. He displayed his semen covered fingertip. “Who knows?” He said as he approached Fallah, “I may just have a bastard on the way.”

Keris’ legs gave out and she slid off the table. Her head was pounding as black spots speckled her vision. Her arm was ringing in agony, limp beside her as on the floor. She welcomed unconsciousness as it took her. She hoped she didn’t wake up.


	10. The Abyss Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris wakes up after her meeting with the king and queen. Where does she go from here?
> 
> Trigger warning for thoughts of self-harm and suicide.

The smell of candle wax filled the room; the wick recently extinguished. Keris coughed as she woke and it made her head throb. She was in her bed but she could not recall how she had gotten there. Her elbow hurt terribly and her head was heavy. She closed her eyes and shuddered. Her last memories returned to her. She swore she could still feel Thorin’s seed inside of her; burning like acid.  She wanted to vomit but her stomach was painfully empty. She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she shimmied to the side of the bed. Her right arm was wrapped tightly in a splint; her elbow had been dislocated. She stood shakily. Her muscles were stiff. 

_How long had she been unconscious?_ It didn’t matter; it had been bliss to be completely unaware of her misery.

She felt around in the dark, the furniture stood in black shadows around her. She wore a thin shift. _Had they dressed her before they had brought her back to her chambers or had the king had her paraded naked and broken through the corridors?_ That didn't matter either. . She was still alive. Unfortunately.

She entered the bath chamber, leaving the door open. She crossed to the pump at the head of the stone footed tub and began to move it. It was difficult with only one arm and tedious. The water slowly began to pour from the faucet, the tub filling when her arm was sore. She slipped the shift down her shoulders, careful around her splint. She left it where it crumpled and climbed into the tub.  She lowered herself into the water, letting the splint soak through. She didn’t care. She leaned against the wall of the tub, staring into the dark. She sniffed as the steam dampened her face. She sniffed again. Then the tears began to fall. She should’ve chosen death. _How foolish she was too choose a fate worse than._

She sobbed loudly. The sound reminded her of those made by the queen; the young dam’s anguished terror echoed in her head. But Keris wasn’t afraid, she was resigned to her end. Her fate was clear and she had finally accepted it. There was nothing left for her but pain. One day, the king would kill her but until then, she wasn’t truly alive anyhow.

She let her head sink below the water. Her tears mingled with the bathwater and both entered her mouth and nose. She held herself under. Her only victory would be to steal the chance from Thorin to do it himself. She choked on the water and her body spasmed. She fought to keep from sitting up.

A hand plunged through the surface and grabbed her shoulder. She was forced up and the water shot painfully out of her nose and throat. She sputtered and coughed as the hand smacked her back, forcing the water from her lungs. She was left to lean against the tub, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Thorin wrung the water from his sleeve, “You’re stronger than that.”

“Fuck off,” Keris retorted.

“They’ll have to reset your arm,” He ignored her venom and took a towel from the rack. He held it out to her expectantly. “Get out.”

“Leave me be. Is this not what you want?” She scowled.

“I shall be the one to allot you your end,” He neared and sneered down at her, “Now get out…” His eyes went to her chest, lingering on her body. “The medic said you were fit but for the arm.” He bent down, his nose just above hers, “Still able to lay on your back.”  He licked his lips and stood abruptly. “Now, you will withdraw yourself from that tub and return to your bed. If you do not, I will drag you out by your hair and you shall spend the night in my bed...or maybe I’ll just fuck you across the table again. A slut like you needn’t a feather mattress.”

Keris swallowed and rose. This was the height of the king’s benevolence; be miserable or slightly less than. It was a poor choice but she was in too much pain to resist. She climbed out of the tub awkwardly with one arm and took the towel from him. He squeezed her bottom where she could feel the dark bruise he had left there previously. 

She dried herself off as he pressed himself flush to her back. She could feel his erection. He relished in her agony. His hand found her breast and he nuzzled against her neck. “My wife has grown more obedient since our meeting...but she still cries.” His lips lingered on her jaw, his hand moving down her stomach.

“She should scream,” Keris muttered.

“Mmmmm,” His fingers pressed down on her clit roughly, “I’m almost starting to enjoy you but keep that tongue under control or I’ll cut it out.”

He released her and she stumbled away from him. He reached into his trousers and readjusted himself, positioning his erection under his belt so that it was less obvious. He pulled his jacket down to help the illusion and let out a sigh. “Alas, I promised to visit her this evening and I know she’ll be impatiently awaiting me.” He smirked, “Once I’ve got a child in her I’ll have more time for you, whore.”

Keris hugged the towel closer as the king turned to the door. His footsteps were followed by the opening and shutting of her chamber door. She was shaking; shivering. Slowly she made herself leave the bath chamber, taking her shift from before the tub. She dressed awkwardly and sat on the edge of the bed until the medic returned to set her arm in a dry splint. His grey hair added to his grizzled look. His eyes remonstrating her as he worked. She did not thank him. The king and his dogs could rot.

* * *

Collette came the next day to gather the laundry. She was spooked as Keris groaned from the bed, not noticing the dam laying in the dark. She approached her, looking Keris over in shock. Keris knew she looked poorly, she had spotted herself in the mirror earlier. There was a gash along her forehead, her lip was swollen and split, and her nose bruised but not broken.

“Oh, what happened to you?” She covered her mouth. The gesture reminded her of Fallah’s reaction to the king’s abuse.

“You needn’t worry for me,” Keris bemoaned, “Get the laundry and go.”

“I--” The laundress bit her lip guiltily. “I spoke to Wenda of you.”

“And? Haven’t you ratted me out yet?” Keris looked away, “Please...do you think it could get worse for me than this?”

Silence followed. The laundress stared down at the broken consort as the latter tried to will the former away. It was too late. She would burn the paper and snap the pen in half. _What could she write that could save her from this prison?_

“I used to read your pamphlets,” Collette whispered, “My sister would lend them to me. She would have little tea parties and read them to those who did not know how. Wenda was there often.”

“That was long ago.” Keris did not move. “I am serving my sentence and will languish thus until I am dead.”

“I’m sorry for how I treated you,” Collette said, “I thought...well, I shouldn’t have judged you. Like you wrote, ‘we cannot divide ourselves upon our labour, only by the substance of our person.’” Keris shook her head. “Wenda says if you need anything, she will help however she can. And…and…” The laundress paused, looking behind her to make certain the door was still shut. “Much can fit in my laundry cart. The guards don’t search me.”

Keris slowly looked to the servant. There was a subtle twitch inside of her. She blinked, trying to suppress it. She didn’t want to try anymore. She couldn’t handle the disappointment, but her stomach was rolling. It riled her; a spark of burned passion rising from the ashes.

“Would you give her a message from me?” Keris tilted her head. This could be a trap but it could help her even if it was. Should she be caught, her demise may come more quickly.

“I will,” She smiled.

“Tell her my pen is ready. I only need to pass the paper.” Keris kept her voice low.

Collette nodded and backed away. “I will take your laundry now.”

She returned to her former docile manner. She took the hamper and replaced it with another. Keris noticed a small weight through the canvas. She waited for the laundress to leave. When she was alone, she rose and neared the hamper, reaching in to retrieve what had been hidden there.

The small pouch was packed to split. Keris loosed the string and pulled out the folded parchment crammed inside the felt. There were a dozen different pamphlets; some hers and some by others. Many she hadn’t seen before as they had been dated after he arrest. Her work, all she had done, it wasn’t dead. Like her, it survived. Balin had lied to her. They did remember her.

* * *

Meha visited shortly after Collette. Caina was not with her thankfully. She entered meekly, nearly whispering her greeting. Tears gathered in her eyes as she sparked a lamp. She pulled up a chair next to the bed, her shock at Keris’ appearance wrinkled her face. “Did...the king do that?” She asked. She reached over and touched Keris’ hand; the one unrestrained by the splint.

Keris nodded. She wanted to stop thinking about it. Even on her own she was reminded by the pangs that shot through her elbow and the pounding in her temples. 

“I didn’t...know if--the silvercloak returned with you. He looked upset, or at least, as much as I ever seen him thus. You…” Her squeezed Keris’ hand, “Your face was covered in blood and your arm...we barely recognized you. You were wrapped in a sheet...I can’t believe the king did that to you.”

“He did. And he could do the same to you or Caina or Dorina, even.” Keris frowned, “Do you ever think of that? What happens when the lords begin to take after their king. Thorin will not meet any punishment or remorse for my suffering and if any other noble committed the same crime, do you think they would either?”

“Dorina doesn’t allow--”

“Dorina has allowed me to be treated thus because she had been paid in gold. Her and her black veils will protect themselves but you’ve heard of how they speak of the red veils. You are not safe. In this mountain, the privileged prosper on the suffering of the lowly.”

Meha’s eyes searched Keris’ face finding only bitterness and pain. The red veil looked at her hand and stood, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She watched Keris sadly. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Keris winced in pain. “Really, you should worry about yourself. It’s not safe to associate with me so much. The king is always looking for ways to hurt me further.”

“I don’t care. In this place, you need a friend and...it’s not fair that the rest treat you so rottenly. Dams like them, well, I think they’re why I’m here. To spite them. To show that their judgment meant nothing to me…I don’t care if the cost of me being decent is getting hurt.”

Keris swallowed. Her throat was tight. It was the first bit of compassion she had been shown in months. Such a sweet dam shouldn’t be there. Yet, something else passed through her mind. Balin had asked her once if it wouldn’t be better to have an ally. It would.

“Meha,” Keris said, “Do you know your letters?”

“Of course,” She was surprised by the question.

“I have a favour to ask of you...you don’t have to say yes but as you can guess, I can’t really write at the moment.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed,” Meha breathed.

“Well, that too,” Keris kept her grin from breaking through, “Don’t you want to help me? Help yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I told you that a pen could change your life?” Keris sat up, gritting her teeth at the effort.

* * *

Keris wasn’t used to receiving so many visitors in such a short time. She was in the armchair drinking a cup of tea Meha had brought her when a quiet knock came at her door. She froze, her body tensing all over. It was too gentle to be Thorin but it still scared her. She called for whoever it was to enter but they were opening the door before she even spoke.

A messenger entered, their face half-hidden beneath a hat, their dull blue smock betraying their duty. The man had wide hips for his sex and a scarf hung from beneath his hat, hiding all of his locks. He closed the door as Keris stood, wondering at why a messenger could have been sent to her when she was forbidden to read. The man’s blue eyes contrasted his uniform and the sob which took him surprised you. He tore off the scarf and revealed his true identity.

The queen was clever in her disguise. She had to be clever. She must have been raised by tutors and trained scholars. Tears appeared in beads along her lower eyelids and she was visibly shaking as she looked Keris over. She neared, grabbing the back of a chair to steady herself. She floundered as she stared at the other dam.

“I...had no idea,” She sputtered, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” She had shed any sense of composure which had guided her there, “I thought---I was so jealous. So hurt and I never knew…”

“Your majesty, it’s alright,” Keris tried to soothe the distraught dam before her. She would draw unwanted listeners with her hysterics.

“No, no it’s not. I thought….Thorin, he was never rough with me. He was decisive but never...what he did to you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Keris grabbed the queen’s shoulder and steadied her. “Please, no more. People will hear and what do you think Thorin will do if he knows you’ve come again, your majesty?”

“Fallah, call me Fallah,” Her face paled with fear, “I can’t…”

“Has he hurt you?” Keris asked.

“No, he’s as he was but...sometimes he is rougher but never like he was with you. And I just watched. I watched what he did to you and you, you, you...told me it was okay. You tried to comfort me while he….” Her voice died in confusion and revulsion. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Keris,” She answered, “Please, you shouldn’t have come.”

“I had to make certain you were okay. Maybe I can help--”

“You can’t. You need to worry about yourself,” Keris backed away, “Let him abuse me and not you..”

The queen’s eyes were swimming with tears and she wiped them. “I shouldn’t be crying. You should...Why didn’t you cry?”

“Because it’s happened before and it will happen again,” Keris sighed. “You must go. You don’t even understand--” 

“I need to understand. Why does he do this to you?”

“I’m a criminal, Fallah. I earned this punishment and there is no stopping it. Don’t make this harder for either of us by getting involved.”

“Don’t you want him to stop?” She rasped.

“Of course I do. I want it all to stop. I just want to…” Keris shook her head, “You can’t be here.”

“Want to what?” 

Keris swallowed. “I want to die. That’s the only way it will stop. So unless you’ve got some poison in your pocket or a knife, you cannot help me.”

Fallah stared at her. Her face was marred with pity and dismay. She inhaled, her blue eyes draining. “I am sorry. For threatening you, for slapping you, for...Thorin.” She looked to the door, her face suddenly more childlike, “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know. You couldn’t have,” Keris said, “But now you do and that knowledge will help you keep yourself safe. You don’t need to worry for me. It’s of no use.”

“Even so,” She neared the door, turning back to Keris, “If you need anything, there’s a paper weight on Thorin’s desk. Move it to the upper left corner and I’ll meet you again.”

Keris nodded and watched the queen fix her disguise and go. A brave dam. Brave, but dumb.


	11. In Futility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty intense chapter. Trigger Warnings apply.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES VIOLENCE AND NON-CON/RAPE. PLEASE BE CAREFUL!
> 
> Bad parts will come after ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~. If you don't want to read them, do not read beyond that marker.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback appreciated. And please, tread carefully.

Keris was summoned a week later. She figured the king had thought her seclusion a punishment in itself. Or perhaps he had the grace to allow her time to heal. It was more likely, she surmised, that he was playing other games with Fallah. His wife who was bound to him both publicly and privately. She had no choice but to act the happy spouse. Behind closed doors, she had fallen from grace and Keris could only imagine Thorin had not grown any more loving towards his queen. Her only blessing would be that the king could not leave bruises on the daughter of royal blood.. But there were other intangible forms of torture.

Meha visited only twice. She was kept busy by her work but Keris had also chosen to keep herself cloistered. She hated how the others gawked at her bruised face and broken arm. Their whispers had not been quiet enough to be ignored and the scandal of the queen’s visit had yet to die. She had not yet found the strength to act. The pen remained unused and the paper snugly hidden in her chair. She would need more before she began.

Dorina entered her room. She took the veil from the vanity and tossed it roughly at Keris. She loomed over her, hands on hips and a scowl on her painted lips. “Well, let’s go.” She snapped, “The king is waiting.”

Keris couldn’t help the fear which nipped at her neck. She stood slowly, numbly pulling the veil over her head. She closed her eyes as a vision came over her. The last she had seen Thorin he had drawn her from her attempted drowning. His hand had explored her body roughly; a promise of suffering to come. Nails dug into her shoulder and shook her, jarring her splinted elbow.

“Best not to have the king waiting longer,” Dorina hissed. “I swear, you are determined to make a mockery of me. If you don’t start acting like a sane dam, the king’s pockets will run dry towards us.” She narrowed her eyes darkly, “Without his funding, I’d not even allow you a red veil, you tramp. Now, let’s go.”

Keris was ushered through her door. She entered a trance; the same which overtook her whenever she thought of the king. It was the only way to survive. To withdraw herself. All around her was seen through a hazy curtain; dulling the plague of her existence. She hid her hand beneath her skirt as it shook. She had to be steady; this was not the time for carelessness.

The red doors were already open, most of the other dams were disposed with their own visitors that night. Keris was surprised at who awaited her in the corridor. The silvercloak, Dwalin, stood beside his brother and Lord of the Chamber, Balin. The elder looked her over with smug sympathy. He tilted his head and glanced at her arm.  _ I told you so _ , his eyes said 

“Miss Wyck,” Balin greeted. Dwalin growled at his side. She turned her gaze away from him and waited to depart. Her confusion restrained by her dread.

Both waved her down the corridor, turning to walk on either side of her. She was the same prisoner she had been months before. Walking between her guards to a sentence worse than death. The king’s chambers seemed to have grown closer for every time that Keris went there, she arrived all too soon. The silvercloak placed a staunch knock on the doors and they were opened by attendants from within. She winced at the formality and lowered her eyes.

“Your majesty,” Balin led with a bow, greeting his king with slimy admiration. Dwalin grumbled his own greeting but remained beside the door, taking his usual vigil. Keris curtsied, her tongue stiff as she greeted the king with formality, her gaze never rising above the floor.

“Lord Balin,” The king greeted and stood. 

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the cushion at the foot of his chair. Keris felt as lowly as a mutt. She approached her seat swiftly, knowing any delay would stoke the king’s ire. She did not need to do so before an audience. The table had been replaced with a longer trestle and the dinner guests sat in a hush; their eyes glued to the unwelcome consort.

The queen was there. Keris knew by her slippers, her seat opposite her upon the king’s left. The place of honour. Dis sat as she had before upon Keris’ other side. The two princes were there with their wives. Balin took his seat beside the heir, Fili, and the attendants removed the lids from their platters. Keris shook her head. Stop looking at me, she willed Fallah. She could feel the queen’s eyes heavier than the others.

“Thorin…” Dis muttered reproachfully. Keris didn’t need to look up to see the disgust in the Dowager’s eyes. She didn’t dare. She didn’t want the king striking her before the table.

“Sister,” He met her with venom, “Now that all are present, I should like us to enjoy our dinner and I have an announcement to make.”

“Does she need to be here for this?” Morinda was foolishly brave enough to voice Dis’ thoughts.

“Does the wife of the second son need be present for any occasion?” Thorin countered sharply, “Kili, you would do well to remind your dam of her courtly manners before I take it upon myself.”

A horrified gasp escaped Morinda but Kili quietly settled her. A fierce warning to still her tongue. Keris listened as the dinner guests began to serve themselves, only the tinker of cutlery and clink of porcelain sounding. She kept her head down. She wasn’t here. Not here. She was in the dungeon. She was hallucinating.

A small plate appeared beneath her nose and she nearly jumped. The king’s sapphire ring sparkled and his voice warned her. “Take it before I have you eat it off the floor like the dog you are.” She obeyed him, thanked him and began to pick at the small hunk of duck. He patted her head in a patronizing manner and straightened in his chair.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat, “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…” Morinda grumbled and Kili reminded her to be quiet once more. “Lord Balin has joined our royal supper this evening because we’ve an important announcement to make. One which would never have happened had it not been for the wisdom and skill of the Lord of the Chamber.”

Keris wondered why she was present. Likely a pawn Thorin had chosen to use against Fallah. Or perhaps merely for her own discomfort. She continued to eat, hoping time would speed up.

“Erebor has regained much of its former dignity. We’ve aligned ourselves with the men of Dale, we’ve rekindled the kinship between us and those dwarves of the Iron Hills, but we have another kingdom which we must worry about. One who has previously been both ally and enemy. The elves are our biggest threats and they are too close for comfort. Thus it is that I have decided it prudent to try to rebuild the former accords with Mirkwood.”

Keris couldn’t help but raise a brow. The king had been vocally against the elvenking since the battle which had nearly claimed his life. The people were also little fond of their Mirkwoodian neighbours. Many blamed the elves for the loss of the Mountain; others resented the previous friendship between their races. Too much of the elvish elitism had leaked into dwarvish society. 

The response at the table was of restrained hostility. All had gone silent. Dwalin shifted by the door, his armor noisy, and the king slammed a fist on the table. “A bunch of ingrates. My own family is filled with dullards. Do you have the slightest idea how important this is? Do you not know what this means for our kingdom? For our future?”

“It is wise,” The queen’s voice was even higher than usual. She sounded even more like a child. “Husband, I think it’s a great idea, I think perhaps, that the table is just surprised by the announcement. Is that not what you wanted? A pleasant surprise which has struck everyone speechless?”

Keris glanced up at Fallah’s pleading smile. The king stared at his wife, mulling her words with a dark sigh. He nodded his head, reaching over to take her hand. The young dam was learning. Or maybe she had only been spared by the presence of her audience. The king smiled proudly however and took his fork in his other hand.

“There is more,” He speared a piece of duck, “The elvenking has invited me to his kingdom and it is expected that the entirety of the royal family attend these negotiations. Balin shall remain with the rest of the council to watch over Erebor.” The king spoke without answer but was more than pleased with himself. He always seemed to relish giving orders to others. To see them so meek and compliant was the only response he needed.

“When would we leave?” Fili was the first to speak. Keris dared to peek at him. His blue eyes noticed the movement and he frowned at her. She looked away. She would have admired his boldness if he wasn’t so distasteful to her. He only every tolerated her with icy condemnation.

“Not for another month or so. There is much to be arranged and the travel should take near a fortnight, thus our arrival could be two months off.” Thorin settled in, speaking through a mouthful. “As the current heir, you would be expected to attend the bartering table at my side. You cannot be spending all your time with your brother as you do here. You must start acting as a true prince, sooner or later.”

Fili bristled and Dis mirrored her son. “Or perhaps it would all be for not. Once I get a child on Fallah you shouldn’t be so concerned with the throne. You can focus on your juvenile past times and I shall be free of your oblivion.”

Keris was thankful. For once, she was not the target of the king’s wrath. The pieces began to fall into place in her mind. Thorin and most of his court would be traveling to the elvish kingdom, away from her. There were no use of courtesans in Mirkwood and she highly doubted he would bother bringing her on such an important journey. It was a promise of freedom, if only temporary.

And it would be a chance to put her pen to action. If she could get Meha away from Caina and Collette held true to her offer, all would be in order. _But what to write?_ There was so much to set to paper that she would surely run out. Perhaps if she could merely get a single pamphlet to Wenda, she could have others copy and distribute more. Keris’ life was suddenly full of possibility.

Her plate slipped from her hand carelessly. Fortunately, there was nothing left on it but the sound had drawn the attention of the table. Thorin kicked her with his boot, catching her in the hip. She frantically scooped up the saucer which he tore from her hand and tossed onto the middle of the table. He took his goblet and overturned it above her head, the dark wine burning her eyes as it seeped from her hair. 

“It seems I am surrounded by idiots,” He dropped the goblet and Keris barely batted it away before it knocked her skull. The table was silent once more, consumed by the king’s displeasure. He reached down and tore off her veil, “This is soaked through. I don’t see why you should need it now anyway.” It was the first time Dis or the princesses at the table had seen her face. It was somehow worse without the shield of sateen.

“Not a very attractive creature,” She heard Kita whisper to Fili.

“Perhaps you should cover _your_ face, Princess,” Thorin whipped the wet veil at Fili’s wife, “A gag would be preferable.”

Keris felt a grim satisfaction. The king wasn’t truly defending her and even if he had been, she would feel little gratitude towards him. But she was tiring of the constant derision. She could bear Thorin’s humiliation; she would bear it until he departed. She could swallow every ounce of hatred he had for her until he was safely away in Mirkwood.

* * *

Keris’ splint had been removed. It felt unusual to be able to move her arm. Her gowns were easier to pull on and sleeping was easier; at least physically. In the last month, Thorin had called to her less often. He was busy arranging for his travel and hopefully forgetting about her. She was still anxious. The tension would build and build and soon the storm would break. His fixation would return. His every thought and act was driven by his unending anger.

When she did visit he was quick. It was as if he merely needed to release his frustration upon her and carry on. It was still painful; still sickening. But her arm had healed and she had fewer bruises than before. So little could be counted as an improvement in her cursed existence.

The only glimmer of hope was the king’s imminent departure. Another day and he would be gone. The royal court had been in a tizzy. The nobles made hasty visits to the den hoping to see their paid amours before they left. A month away with their wives would be unbearably lonely. Keris felt something she hadn’t in a long time. Happiness, or at least, a sliver of.

She was examining her newly freed arm when her door open. It crashed against the wall as it was thrown ajar with immense force. She turned from the mirror, the king tilting his head at her as his blue eyes flared.  _ What had she done now?  _ She lowered her arm and he growled. She had been too stunned to greet him properly. She was not helping herself. She got to her knees and bowed her head. “Your majesty,” She forced out.

He grunted and walked circles around her. She fought to keep still, her hands grasping at her skirts for strength. “Get up and fetch some wine. Now.” He walked away and dropped heavily into an armchair.

Keris bowed her head and scrambled to her feet. She scurried through the open door and along the corridor. Several dams were staring down the hallway, curious at the king’s abrupt entrance. She crossed to the cabinet where the wine was kept and opened the glass door, grabbing the first one she saw. She turned, nearly colliding with Caina.

“Keris,” Caina sounded unusually somber, “Are you...alright?” Her eyes strayed to the bottle in Keris hand. It was shaking.

“Fine,” Keris whispered, “Please. The king will not wait.”

Caina took a deep breath and stepped aside. Keris swiftly made her way back to her chamber, the king gripping the arm of his chair as she entered. His eyes were glued to the opposite wall. “Put the wine on the table,” He motioned to the small round table at his elbow, “And close the door.”

Keris obeyed without hesitation. The easier she made this, the quicker it would be done. “You may pour me my wine.” She took a goblet from her mantle and set it beside the bottle. He caught her wrist before she could lift the wine. “First, take your clothes off.” She blinked but dared not argue. He released her and she rescinded her arm.

Slowly she reached back and loosened the laces of her gown. Thorin watched closely. His hand was in his lap, rubbing himself. She shuddered and pulled her dress down her shoulders, wriggling out of it and folding it over the footboard of her bed. Her shift was easily shed and her slippers kicked aside. She turned back to the king and he sighed quietly.

“My wine.” He smirked and she neared. He had seen her thus many times, this was little different than lying prone in his bed. Better even because he was not atop her. She uncorked the bottle and poured him a full glass. He took it and gulped it down. He set it aside and looked her over once more. “On your knees, whore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She reluctantly got down on her knees, her eyes on the carpet as she knelt beside him. Her gaze was drawn by the king’s hand. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled forth his hardened cock. Her blood went cold. She looked away. 

“Come here before me,” He pointed between his knees. She bit down on her tongue and did as he bid. He never told her what to do, he usually just did it to her. His hand stroked his member, removing itself to touch her chin as she came closer. “You’re going to take me in that smart little mouth of yours.”

“What?” She couldn’t help the outburst. She looked up at him in disgust.

“You may look at me during, I’d prefer that truly,” He grinned.

She stared at him helplessly. His hand went to her hair and he forced her closer. She shut her mouth as his cock pressed against her lips. She pushed on his knees, trying to get away but he was too strong. “Open up, dear.” He said tauntingly, “That’s it.” She could do nothing but part her lips as he smothered her with his member. She knew that if she continued to refuse, it would only make it worse. Besides, one night. One last night before he was off to Mirkwood.

She let her lips widen over his cock. Impatient, Thorin pushed himself deeper and deeper and she nearly choked. He let her reverse slightly but forced her back. He began to guide her by her hair, from tip to hilt. She wanted to gag even when he wasn’t at the back of her throat. She dug her nails into his thighs as tears threatened but he only seemed to relish it. He groaned and leaned his head back in delight.

“You keep doing that and I might just let you have an early night,” He purred, “I’m going to…” He paused to shiver in pleasure, “let go and if you think of taking your mouth off of me….” He breathed, “I’ll break your arm again.”

He carefully untangled his fingers from her hair. Keris continued to use her mouth, closing her eyes as she fought back the threatening tears. He took her hand, pried it from his thigh and guided it to his sack, positioning her fingers so that she fondled him. “Oh, oh, oh.” He was moaning in a rhythm, “Oh, I’m going to cum in your mouth and your going to swallow it, whore.”

Keris kept going. She just wanted it to be over. If it went on much longer she was going to vomit. The king’s groans grew louder and she pulled away as he exploded. His semen dripped down his shaft, spilling onto his trousers. “You fucking harlot,” He stroked himself through his climax and stood. “I told you not to do that.”

She fell back on her bottom as he neared and he pulled her up by her throat. He flung her onto the bed. He began to tug at his unbuckled belt, loosing it from its loops. He snapped the leather together as he came closer. “On your stomach.” He ordered.

“Please, Thorin…” Keris begged, forgetting herself.

“Thorin?!” He hissed, “When have I ever allowed you such privilege.” He lashed out and struck her thigh. “Your majesty. Now on your stomach or I’ll wrap this around your neck.”

Keris’ lip was trembling as she rolled over. The air was cold on her backside and she looked over as the king pulled back. His first strike had her burying her face in the blankets. She bit down on them as he landed another and then another. She counted ten before he stopped. Her flesh was on fire.

“You can’t ever do yourself a favour,” He said, his weight shifted the bed beside her. He lifted her head by her hair, turning her to look at him. I should hope the pain doesn’t last very long. It would be most uncomfortable to travel with a bruised ass.”

“Travel?” She echoed, her head spinning.

“Why, you didn’t think I’d leave you behind, did you?” He smirked, “You’ll be travelling at the rear but you’ll make the journey to Mirkwood. I’m not dumb enough to trust you on your own.”

He released her and stood as she groaned into the blankets. He would take everything from her. She could hear him moving around, the rustle of fabric and his boots being kicked off. He climbed up as her head spun, her vision blurred with pain. He positioned himself over her as he parted her legs, heavy against her welted back, and lined himself up with her entrance. He pushed in and she squeaked. She kept her face down as the tears soaked the blanket below her.

What a fool she had been.


	12. Travel Companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris begins the journey to Mirkwood but it proves more tumultuous than expected.

Keris would not go. She sat staring at the empty trunk which has been brought to her chamber that morning. She had been ordered to pack but she had not moved from her bed. The king’s retinue was to be prepared by sundown and ready to leave at dawn. Let her slow his pace as much as she could. She had been assured that whatever she did, she would always be wrong. She would ever find herself at the mercy of the king’s wrath.

It was well past noon. She didn’t need to go to the foyer to see the sun through the window or ask another. She knew it had been several hours since the travel case had been delivered. She stewed in her bitterness, relishing in her menial act of defiance. Her door was still open. Dams passed but few looked within. They didn’t bother so much with her anymore.

A shadow lingered and she looked up. Dorina’s face turned red, nearly matching the shade of her hair. She entered with a flurry of black satin and huffed. “You insolent wench, can you not follow a simple request. The king has bid you prepare yourself for travel and here you sit like some dullard.”

“Fuck the king,” Keris muttered.

Dorina stormed towards her, ready to strike. Keris caught her hand and shoved her away, standing as she forced the taller damn away from her. “You will not touch me,” She hissed at the mistress, “Or you will receive equal recompense.”

“You are a simple-minded slut! Do you not know what the king should do if he hears you have disobeyed him?”

“You do not care for me, only your own well-being. If he should give you less gold, it has no effect upon me.” Keris growled, “If he should beat me, it will be little different than any other day.”

Dorina reeled but a spark caught her emerald eyes. A flicker of foreign emotion. She knew as well as any how the king treated Keris, but it had only brought her prosperity to allow it. She would not speak against; would instead abide the inhumanity. _Was that not her profession?_ To allow, rather, benefit from the abuse of dams.  Her lips curled and the gleam of empathy faded from her. 

“The king shall be informed of your disregard. I will not suffer for yet another of your transgressions.” She turned, kicking the empty truck as she passed it. She paused at the door and looked back, “You are but a stain upon this den and I hope the king should soon remove you from it.”

She stomped off and Keris smiled as she resumed her seat. It lasted only a second before it faded and she lowered her head. Small victories were short-lived. It was another hour before she was disturbed again. The large doors of the den were opened and she listened to the clamour which followed. Dams tittered and voices hushed as heavy footfalls neared the entrance of the eastern corridor.  A flourish of silver filled her doorway.

Lord Dwalin turned his back to the door as he stood just to the left of the frame in the hallway. Thorin appeared thereafter as his captain kept his vigil in the corridor. His blue eyes burned as he looked from Keris to the empty trunk. He snarled and took a candlestick from over the hearth. He hurled the heavy silver ornament at her.  It missed her by inches and she stood. Thorin roared in frustration and crossed to her, seizing her arm. 

“I give you an order and you ignore it. Will you ever learn? Your defiance has already brought you this low.” He released her arm and reached around her, digging his fingers into the welts hidden beneath her dress. She breathed through her teeth but would not shout. “Have you so quickly forgotten your previous punishment?”

“I will not go with you,” She tried to push him away but he kept her close to him, inflaming her wounds as he kept his hand on her back. “I serve no purpose in Mirkwood. Do you think the elves would respect you more knowing you keep a whore?”

The smack was sudden and stunning. She stumbled back as the king released her. The noise of it had been deafening. She was certain every dam in the den had heard it. “Mahal, I had hoped to keep your bruises easily concealed but you give me no choice. You shall wear your veil until that fades.” She knew her cheek would soon be discoloured. “You will come with me because I say so. You will present yourself as my ever loyal concubine. You will keep your trite little mouth shut and thank me on your knees.”

“Beat me now and get it over with,” Her voice had rose despite herself, “Save us both the time and kill me already.”

“You will not be free of me so easy,” He grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his hand as he forced her around. He twisted her neck awkwardly until she had no choice but to fall to her knees. He guided her towards the trunk and made her look into its depths. “This will be filled within the hour,” He said as he bent close, his voice only loud enough for her to hear, “If it is not, I should invite you to sup with me and my wife this evening. She could do with another lesson, or rather you could.” He pulled her back so that she was forced to look into his eyes, “I will bend her over and fuck her bloody before you and she will be certain who to blame for her troubles.”

Thorin released Keris, kicking her forward as he made his way to the door. “Stay,” He said to his silvercloak, “If she fails to complete her work, bring her to me.” The king continued and she heard Lord Dwalin grumble. Slowly she rose, rubbing her neck as she neared the wardrobe. Short-lived indeed.

* * *

Keris was to travel at the end of the train. Only the servants travelled behind her. Much of the night had been spent in sleeplessness. She could only imagine her degradation would worsen in Mirkwood. There, class lines were more pronounced and her race alone set her apart as lesser. Perhaps the king could convince himself the elves would see him as an equal but she knew that was doubtful. The divide was what had disintegrated the alliance before. The elves did not see the blood of dwarves as worthy as their own.

Her carriage was small, made even more so by the presence of her escort. Lord Dwalin had been deemed her protector, or rather, her keeper. He would surely keep her from escaping on the road. The king had to lead his people on their voyage, thus could not be bothered to watch her himself. It was for the better; it kept her from the agony of Thorin’s presence.

She climbed in ahead of the burly silvercloak. He followed, nearly snapping the door from its hinges as he closed it. He stared at the seat to the left of her head, blindly grasping the handle of the axe laid across his lap. As the carriage jolted into movement, he was undisturbed by its rocking. Keris almost preferred his presence to the king’s. Lord Dwalin was menacing but not so unnecessarily cruel.

She leaned her head against the side of the cart, looking out the window as they descended the craggy decline. It had been a long time since she had been outside. It was almost freedom in itself even though she was still a prisoner. The smell of cold earth below mixed with evergreen and the bite of late autumn. She smiled, only for a second, and then she recalled her company.

She glanced over, surprised to find the dwarf’s steely eyes upon her. He shifted on his bench and scowled as he looked away. He cleared his throat and readjusted his weapon. She chewed her cheek and returned her attention to the twisted bushes and dying grasses passing by.

“Don’t you be thinking of jumping from this cart,” Her escort spoke at last, “If ye lucky enough not to break a leg, I’ll catch ye before you make the treeline.”

Keris looked to him and bared her teeth. _Did he think her so foolish?_ Sure, she was desperate for escape but she knew she’d not have a hope of getting away. If she really thought of trying, she knew she’d have to wait for her moment. Perhaps, when they stopped for food or rest. She was more clever than he gave her credit for.

“A slice from your axe is preferable to the nightmare I’m living,” She hissed.

“Aye, I’d think it would be,” He agreed, “But it’s not a circumstance ye couldn't make more tolerable.”

“What do you know? You take your orders, swallow the immorality of your master, and go on living without remorse. It’s all so tolerable to you. I am sure you're paid enough gold to stomach it.” She could not keep the venom from her voice.

Lord Dwalin stared at her, his chest rising and falling slowly as he considered her. “If you’d learn to bite your tongue, even do as your bid, you might just save yourself some pain,” He shook his head as if she were a child, “You keep on as y’are and I’ll be carrying you back to your chamber every night with a new injury. The king is as easy to appease as he is to anger. Bite down on your pride, girl, and ye may just keep yourself in one piece.”

Keris scoffed and turned back to the window. “The king will do as he pleases and he only deals in pain. He tortures you as he does everyone around him. You are to do his dirty deeds as he splendours in the blood you shed. His wife is to kneel at his feet and stay silent so that she is not treated as I am. And me, there is nothing I can offer him but my sufferings and so that is all that can appease him.”

She pulled shut the curtain and closer her eyes. Her head was starting to spin. “Besides, I am nothing but a whore. Don’t bother yourself with me. Keep me in line as you’ve be ordered to and we shall coexist without trouble.”

* * *

Five days on the road and Keris was already exhausted. All she did was sit in the carriage silently, avoiding the gaze of her escort, but sleep had come rarely. They only rested for a few hours each day before continuing on. The trail was narrow and winding. Dwarves were weary of the Mirkwood forest, thus they took a path which skirted its border. Only when absolutely necessary would they break the tree line and that would not be until the final days of their journey.

Keris stepped down from the carriage as Lord Dwalin yawned like a ravenous bear. He stretched his burly arms above him and dug around in the trunk attached to back of the cart. “Eat,” He tossed her salted meat as he had every time they had stopped. She took it and sniffed at its stale and gamey scent. He bit into his own without care as he paced the edge of the road.

“Captain,” A voice interrupted the tense silence. Keris turned as another silvercloak approached. His name was Gloin, he had been sent to fetch her by the king on occasion. His braided red beard and fiery eyes could rival Dwalin’s fearsome stature. He was more often at service of the king’s sister; her sole protector.

“Mmm,” Dwalin growled as he looked at his comrade dully.

“The king requests your presence at the head of the train,” The ginger-haired silvercloak glanced at Keris. His eyes moved rather a lot. 

“Mahal,” Dwalin swore and shoved the rest of the jerky in his mouth, “Watch this one.” 

The captain shook his head as he pushed passed his fellow silvercloak, stomping around the other carriages and dozing horses. Keris watched him, foreboding rising in her chest. She did not like the dwarf but he was familiar. He only hurt her if the king was there to command him thus.

“With me,” Gloin’s hand was suddenly on her arm as he ushered her in the opposite direction. She had expected him to lock her in the carriage but he had continued on, leading her through the servants who took the rear of the party.

“Wait, where are we going?” She asked.

“Quiet,” He hissed, his grip tightening.

“Hey, let go of me,” She struggled against him and his other hand formed a fist. “Stop!” She tried to dig her heels in but tripped over a root. She was forced to stumbled onward to keep from falling on her face. He turned her suddenly towards the trees and dragged her into their shadow.

“My princess,” He greeted the sombre oaks. Keris looked around and shadows stirred, ominously flitting behind the trunks. 

The dark turned to flesh and Dis emerged, two figures flanking her. Kita and Morinda were almost snarling as they glaredat the consort. The dowager removed her hand from behind her back revealing a thick strap. She pulled it taut with a snap and nodded at the silvercloak beside Keris.  Gloin grabbed the back of Keris’ dress and tore the laces, ripping past the seam as he bared her back to the crisp air. She resisted as he tried to push her to her knees. He grabbed the back of her neck and forced her down, the twigs stabbing her through her skirts.

“You best take your punishment like the animal you are,” Dis approach, resting the strap on Keris’ shoulder, “Struggling will only make it worse. Besides, I’d hate to strike your face by accident.” 

She slid the strap beneath Keris’ chin and forced her to look up. Kita neared and tore the veil, frowning at the bruise along the consort’s cheek. Thorin’s anger was only just fading from her cheek. Morinda moved like a cat as she rounded Keris, a gasp rising from her as she stared at her bare back. The welts of the king’s flogging remained, still tender.

“It looks as if you’ve been beaten to the privilege,” Morinda laughed. Dis came around to see the marks.

“A few more would not be noticed,” Dis said with delight.

“Fallah should be here to lay the first licks,” Kita commented, “It is her who is most offended by this creature.”

Keris closed her eyes and braced for her beating. She could handle pain, Thorin had helped her in that. They were right, _what was another set of bruises on her flesh?_

“That naive little girl wouldn’t come,” Morinda tutted, “Much too gentle for this kingdom.”

“Too tender for my brother,” Dis assured, “She is only lucky she was sired by a king herself. Now, enough prologue, we haven’t much time.”

Dis raised her arm, her shadow warning Keris who had opened her eyes. She gripped her knees as the strap came down upon her bare back, biting down on her tongue to suppress a shriek. She did her best not to move but the force jolted her. Another strike and her nails pierced the fabric of her skirts. The third rose with a wisp but did not descend. Twigs snapped and rocks rolled as another approached their hiding spot.

“Eh,” Dwalin’s deep voice had never sounded so pleasant. Keris looked over her shoulder as he passed by the line of oaks. Fallah was at his side, her face wrinkled with worry. “What is the meaning of this?” The captain approached Gloin, “I could have your cloak for sedition, soldier.”

“Royal orders,” Gloin nodded towards Dis, “I was doing my duty.”

Fallah came around Keris, trying to look into her face. Keris turned her eyes to the dirt, waiting for the scene to end. She was nothing. Just a pawn. An object of hatred. She was there to be used.

“Princesses, the king would have you in the same position,” He motioned to the consort knelt upon the ground, “If he knew of this. Is his wrath worth your own self-indulgence?”

“I am the king’s sister, he would not flog me thus. A few choice words, perhaps,” Keris could hear the grin in Dis’ voice.

“Whatever he would decided for your penance, I would not stop him,” Dwalin insisted, “A princess lowering herself thus and all over a harlot.”

“This will not happen,” Fallah announced suddenly, stepping past the consort, “I am the queen and my ladies will not act thus.” She was starting to sound less of a child when she spoke, “If I should catch any of you behaving so vilely again, I shall be the first to tell my husband and I will not appease him on your behalf.”

“Are you so stupid? This dam has humiliated you. The whole court knows of her disgrace. With your own husband...my brother,” Dis snapped, “Would you let yourself be degraded in your own marriage?”

“I would keep myself from being the victim of it,” Fallah rasped, “You know what Thorin is capable of. You know he cares little for relations when unleashing his ire. Neither of us are immune to his whims.” The queen stared down the dowager, even though Dis stood two inches taller, “Now, do away with that strap and begone before anyone else should stumble upon this foolhardy scene.”

Keris listened as the twigs and leaves crunched, the sound growing distant as the three princesses retreated, followed by the armored footsteps of their silvercloak. She felt a sudden weight on her shoulder and the brush of fabric over her newly flogged back. Fallah had placed her cloak over the consort and Dwalin helped her to her feet wordlessly.

“I am sorry,” Fallah said.

“Don’t be.” Keris grumbled, keeping her head down as she took the cloak from her shoulder, “Keep it.” She shoved the cape into the queen’s arms, her dress sagging forward, “The king does much worse to me than they ever could.” She stepped past Fallah and towards the grey light peeking through the tree line.

“Best we return before we are noticed,” Dwalin said, “I shall take care of the dam, my queen.”


	13. Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The court of Erebor arrives in Mirkwood but not all feel welcome.

The road to Mirkwood was long. Keris spent much of it in the carriage. Dwalin had insisted upon it. He had been so concerned with the dowager and her cronies coming back that he would not let the dam out of his sight. She wasn’t stupid though. She knew it was more out of self-preservation than true worry for her. If anything happened to the king’s courtesan, her keeper would be to blame.

She had flinched when they had first returned to their carriage. He had roughly turned her around and examined her back. She let him. He went so far as to pour a flash of whiskey down her back, cleansing the wounds painfully. She hissed and mumbled a thank you before retreating inside, waiting for the train to continue on.  Days and nights had passed by in further silence but she found her companion less hostile. His eyes flicked to her with pity rather than spite. She couldn’t say what was worse. Her back hurt as she rocked against the cushion seat, her head leaned just beside the window. As the trip drew to an end, so too did her respite from the king’s company. He had chosen, or rather been required, at the front of the party. For that, and only that, she was thankful.

Slowly, they came to a halt. She could see servants ahead of her as they began to carry trunks and bundles towards the stable. The line of carriages stretched from the palace doors past the gardens. Keris was at the rear, thus she was barely able to see the stables themselves. She pulled herself away from the window as Dwalin crouched and opened the door, climbing down with a strained groan. He stretched in the setting evening light as she exited behind him, not daring to look at the palace. For her it was nothing more than a new prison.

“You keep that face covered,” Dwalin turned back to her grimly, “These elves would be scandalized at the sight of a dwarven consort’s face.”

Keris looked away. As of late, the silvercloak had not been calling her harlot or whore. Before he had only ever spoken to her with distaste. _What use was it to tiptoe around the facts?_ She was a harlot; a whore. She was every name they called her. 

“Would that they will have the chance,” She scoffed.

“They will. The king is to greet his elven counterpart shortly. Once the attendants arrive to welcome us. Thorin and his queen shall be shown to the throne room. There, formal greetings shall be exchanged.” Dwalin explained dully. “As is his want, our king likes to make a show, thus you will accompany him and his wife.”

Dwalin shook his head. There was a small part of him which called to her own sympathy. A glimmer of mourning; disappointment in the beast his king had become. That same grief shared by the lower echelons of Erebor society. Yet it was not enough to stop him from following Thorin; from enacting his cruel machinations. It dissolved her sympathy and fueled her resent.

“You’re just as pathetic as the rest. At a single word, you would set light to your own integrity for a king with even less.” She smiled with venom as she looked down the line of carts and carriages.

“And you? You took to your back to save your own life. Not much of a life to live.” He scolded.

“I never claimed it was an honourable choice. Nor the right one.” She inhaled as she considered the hazy sunset limning the vehicles around her. “I never said it wasn’t a mistake, one that I pray every night I could take back.”

Dwalin sighed. Keris could feel his glare. “Well, keep your mouth shut and maybe the king won’t give me any orders...You could save us both a lot of trouble if ye did.”

“Don’t you worry,” She assured him bitterly, “I’ll be a good little pet. I’m much too tired to do anything but. Besides, I wouldn’t give Thorin the satisfaction.”

* * *

The sun was almost gone by the time Dwalin had led Keris to the front of the train. Thorin and his queen were freshly pampered; impromptu toilettes set up in their carriage. The flurry of unpacking continued around them, the elvish attendants awaiting the dwarven retinue.

Keris looked up at the slender Mirkwood elves; silken hair and crystalline eyes. The dwarves looked like children as they moved around the elvish legs. Her eyes were drawn back to her own people; Thorin looked impatient, his blue eyes scathing as he looked to the attendants. “As you will,” He waved them on, “My company is in order. Show us before the moon should sight us.”

The elves did not tarry at the king’s orders. All were on their toes; awaiting the worst, hoping for the best. This meeting between rivals races, vengeful kings, could bring a long-yearned prosperity or inevitable war. The balance was precarious; dangerous. It was life or death.

Thorin slowed his gate, slipping back beside Keris. She had only seen him once or twice along the journey. He kept his voice low, his ear nearly grazing her ear as he spoke. “I will not hesitate to strip and strap you in front of the elvenking. Do not make me regret bringing you.”

“It is hardly custom for a whore to attend a royal welcome,” She spoke without thinking.

“I like to show off my toys,” He pinched her side cruelly and she flinched, “Mouth shut, eyes down and you might just make it out in one piece.”

“Your majesty,” She breathed. It was a trap, she knew. He must have grown listless on the road; trying to conjure a new way to torture her as he traveled. He must have been dreaming of it. What more could one as cruel as him fantasize of but the misery of others?

He stepped forward, hooking his arm through Fallah’s. She slowly turned her attention forward, her head craned around to observe the king’s conversation with his escort. The pity in her eyes mirrored Dwalin’s. Keris sighed and looked to the silvercloak. He stared straight ahead as he walked beside her. His jaw was tensed and he fought not to return her gaze. She could see the plea in his eyes;  _ just do as your told. _

Keris kept her steps even. She held her skirts as they climbed the palace stairs, the king’s back her guide. She held back the scowl which so easily rose when she looked at him. The bile rose in her stomach; burning her. She had never hated any so much as the dwarf before her. His absence had only made that more obvious. She was thankful for the veil covering her face; hiding her thoughts. It would be all to easy to see her sneer.

The halls of Mirkwood were like a forest in themselves. The corridors were barrels of intertwined branches, curtains of leaves, and golden ornaments. Twinkling crystal lanterns rose above them suspended by vines. The walkways were broad but tall; perilous if one were to peer over the edge onto those below. How easy it would be to throw herself from. To push the king over.

She felt cold metal on her wrist through the thin cuff of her gown. She looked over at Dwalin who seemed to read her mind. He shook his head and she shrugged. She would have to deal with the damned guard before she ever got to Thorin. The silvercloak rescinded his hand and they carried on in silence; the bridges weaving towards a towering elm door frame.

Within, glass lanterns illuminated an immense throne room. The elvish attendants stopped at the door as they entered. Keris peeked over the dwarf king’s shoulder as he walked ahead of her down the center of the walkway. The throne itself was a swirl of branches that looked as if the gods had twined them together themselves. In it sat a tall elf with long silvery blond hair, shoulders straight, and eyes imperious.  He looked over Thorin and his queen. He stood as his gaze traveled to the unexpected third in their party. Keris sensed her own king bristle and she quickly lowered her eyes. She could make it through if she didn’t make herself obvious. The elvenking’s eye lingered on her, she could feel it. It was as if she could even hear his thoughts; _who is this wicked creature?_ She realized this elf was old enough to recall the last purple veil; her predecessor. Before Thorin, before Thrain.

“King Thorin,” The elvish king descended the stairs of his throne, towering over his dwarvish visitors.

“King Thranduil,” Thorin’s voice was a sinister contrast to Thranduil’s smooth tones. “We are honoured at your welcome. I look forward to restoring our former accords.”

“I see little reason our negotiations may be derailed,” He assured his peer, “I trust you should find your stay here pleasant and a welcome reprieve from the stresses of your station. I would not trouble you to expend yourself after such a lengthy and arduous trek.”

“I thank you for your consideration. I shall not delay any further than the morrow. We shall meet and commence our discussions at your earliest discretion.” Thorin recited his courtly dialogue and Keris could have scoffed. He was rather skilled at playing the part. She took a disdainful pleasure in his vapidity. 

“We shall,” The elvenking agreed as he neared the queen who stood just ahead of Keris. “But I should not neglect an introduction to your lovely new bride; Queen Fallah? I know your father.”

“He knows you too, your grace, but I should not let his opinion of you colour my own.” She replied in formal courtesy.

“You are much more genteel than your sire,” He remarked wryly. “A gracious queen...and wife.”

Keris could feel the heat cut through the iciness of the quip. The elf was looking over the queen’s shoulder at the uninvited courtesan. She kept still as if doing so would help her disappear.

“She is but a loyal servant,” Thorin explained nonchalantly, “A pet, if you will. You have your own if I recall.”

“Mmm,” The elven king accepted and swept around as he made to return to his throne. “Very well. I have never been one to question dwarven customs; even ancient ones. I should bid you a peaceful night. You will need your rest for the morrow.”

“You as well,” Thorin returned and gestured his wife to turn. He walked alongside her and Keris waited to follow only steps behind, Dwalin silent and unnoticed at her shoulder. She let out a quiet breath of relief. She would yet know if she was to be summoned that evening but she had at least survived the most perilous tests.

* * *

When finally released by the king’s presence, Keris could sense Thorin’s disappointment. She was certain he had expected her to make a scene. Even longed to put her in her place before his rival. Dwalin bid the king and queen a good night, vowing to keep watch outside their chambers when he had deposited the courtesan at her own. She struggled to keep her eyes down, wanting so to glare at those around her.

Keris followed Dwalin away from the royal pair as they followed an elvish attendant towards their own lodgings. Another led away the other two dwarves; an odd coupling. The silvercloak scowling as he walked the foreign palace corridors accompanied by a small dam who hid her own distaste beneath her veil.  Movement caught Keris’ eye and she dared to look up. The elvish attendant peered over his shoulder at her, glancing away quickly as she returned his gaze. She bowed her head again and gulped. This was worse than Erebor. Here she was to be humiliated before a race which had already disrespected her race anon. 

They stopped before a set of tall silver doors, engraved with scenes which reminded Keris of the red doors of the den in the Mountain. The only difference was that the participants in the lurid acts were elves rather than dwarves. She blanched as she realized where she was. She knew there were Mirkwoodian courtesans but she had thought she’d not be deemed worthy of their presence. Truly she had expected little better than a cupboard.

“Go on then,” Dwalin said as the attendant rapped on the door, “Back where you belong.”

Keris nodded and listened to the flurry of activity from the other side of the door. She looked to Dwalin as the doors began to lurch open and he avoided her gaze. He had lost much of his form spite for her; almost ashamed as he carried out his duties regarding her. He chewed his lip, hesitating before turning to her.

“You’ll be safe from the Dowager and her wolves here,” He said quietly, “Fallah thought it would be best to keep them from another attack. They wouldn’t dare with so many around.”

Keris blinked. She hadn’t expected any concern after her. She had been little worried about Dis anyhow. Yet, it was a shock to her that either the queen or the silvercloak would put that much care into it.

“Right,” She looked to the elvish woman who had appeared to greet them. “Good night, Captain.”

She stepped forward and followed the elfess into her new den. Unlike herself, this courtesan did not wear a veil, her hair was braided down the back, and her gown was a pale sky-blue. The doors closed as they ventured further and Keris was shown into the foyer where elvish escorts were lounging, a few with clients already at their side. They did not wear the divisory colours relegated to their station in Erebor, instead their gowns mirrored every hue and shade of a springtime rainbow. Despite their gaiety, they sensed her presence and every eye found the unusual dam behind her violet veil.

“Your name?” The ashen haired elfess who had shown her in asked, breaking her from her inner turmoil.

“Uh,” She looked between the madam and the other escorts, “Keris.”

“You are the new purple veil. I thought the practice outdated in the dwarvish mountain.” She spoke as if it were a trifle.

“It was,” Keris frowned and lowered her chin once more.

“I am Ester. This is my den but here we live as any elfess in the kingdom. We do not judge, we only do our duty.” She continued lithely. “I am not very familiar with the practices of your own peoples, but we welcome any who share the red mantle.”

Keris’ spine stiffened as she felt the eyes still upon her tearing her apart. “I am but a sideshow. The king has dared bring a whore upon an official visit. What a farce.” She spat, “Your warm words will not cozen me. I have found the truth easier swallowed whole, as painful as it may be.” She glared up at the madame but found no hatred in return, only shock and a tinge of dismay.

“We….will show you your rooms now,” Ester forced out, unable to grasp at another nicety. Keris bowed her head in acquiescence and followed her towards the northern corridor. 

An ivory door was opened to her and the madam left her with few words, almost afraid to spark her ire once more. Keris had not meant to be sharp but she felt as if she were walking along a bridge ready to snap and send her tumbling into the abyss. Now that she was in Mirkwood, she was no longer removed from her tormentor. Behind closed doors, he was free to visit and rain on her all his cruelty as before.  She stared at the bed listlessly. After weeks of sleeping on a carriage bench, she should have been blissful at the sight of a real mattress but there would be no rest for her. Her stomach began to churn with that familiar foreboding which had settled in the back of her mind upon the road. Trapped again, it shrouded her all at once. She prayed the negotiations kept Thorin occupied; at least for a night or two.


	14. Unwelcomed Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris finds herself host to unwanted visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Violence ensues in this chapter and blood. As per usual, tread carefully and please comment!! Thank you for reading.

The next morning came slowly. Keris had spent the night awake mostly. Sitting, pacing, thinking. Occasionally, she would feel a pang in her elbow, reminding of her previous injury. Nights like these, she felt it more. She dressed in her darkest gown, the violet almost black in hue. Every day felt like a funeral. In this foreign, land she felt ever more lost.

A knock sounded at the door as she looked out at the sun staring back at her over the distant treeline. Thorin always kept his balcony curtains closed when she was present. He had one of the few chambers in the mountain with a window to the outside. It was as if she had been cloistered in those last month. _Was it months?_ She paused. A little longer would mark a year if she counted correct.

She crossed to the door, turning the handle cautiously. She opened it, bracing herself for the sight of her personal tormentor. Ester looked down on her like some sacred statue; her features alabaster and serene. She smiled and Keris flinched. The gesture looked so sincere; so peculiar. _What was she hiding?_

“Lady Keris,” She greeted kindly, “I’ve come to invite you to break fast with the rest of us. Of course, if you should wish a private meal, we would be happy to oblige.”

Keris considered her. “No, I would not trouble you so much. I shall join you.” She would hate to impose upon ones hospitality more than necessary. Mahal knew, she was already a thorn in this elfess’ side. To have to welcome a dwarven whore into her brothel must have been a disgrace.

Ester bowed her head graciously. “If you would follow me.” Keris took her veil from the table and slipped it over her face as she stepped out into the corridor. Ester looked over her as they began to walk down the oaken-lined marble floors.

“You needn’t wear the veil here. We do not hide our faces as your people do.” She commented, “In Mirkwood, courtesans are honoured, not disgraced. And you, mistress to the king, are most favoured.”

“It is not an honour,” Keris objected. She cleared her throat and shook her head at herself. She was embarrassed of her outburst. It had taken her suddenly. But the suggestion that her torture was some accolade bit at her, venom spreading through her veins.

“We are all equal here, Lady Keris,” She was unfazed by the dam’s ire. She passed through a tall doorway, ushering Keris within. A long table of elves, the same she had seen the night before in the brothel’s antechamber, sat along a large table. They ate and chattered happily, much unlike the gossiping red and black veils of Erebor. “The lords treat us fairly and they send us pleasant favours. What we do is a service and there is no purpose acting as though we are above it. We make the lords happy, we are servants of the royal court and the kingdom itself. You will find no maltreatment here.”

Keris bit her tongue. This elfess could not protect her. Perhaps her women were free of abuse, but they did not serve King Thorin of Erebor; Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. They were not bent to another’s will and beat into submission. And they could not stop it from happening to her. Thorin cared less for the opinions of elves than he did his own people.

“Please, take a seat and share our wares,” She continued, waving to the table, “Eat as much as you wish.”

Ester bowed her ashen head once more and retreated, taking her seat at the head of the table. Keris sighed and warily approached, finding an empty chair for herself. She was forced to climb up onto the cushioned chair but could not complain for its comfort. She placed a single scoop of eggs onto her plate and filled her glass with lemon water. She would be fortunate to stomach even that.

The voices around her turned to tittering, their tones growing quiet. Keris was used to being talked about, she had grown immune to it. She kept her eyes down and bit into a flaky forkful, though she couldn’t taste the egg on her tongue. She wondered why she had humoured Ester; it wouldn’t have been such an offense to have remained in her chamber. To hide as she did in Erebor.

“Pardon me,” Keris was drawn from her self-pity by a gentle tap on her shoulder. An auburn-haired elfess stared at her with curious eyes. “We…” She glanced back at the two elven women across from her and they giggled nervously, “We wanted to ask you something.”

“Mmm,” She raised a brow, “Alright?”

“We, uh, well…” Her lips trembled and the trio’s smiles slowly faded, “It’s about the king. Your king. Is he as cruel as they say?”

“Cruel?” Keris echoed.

“Forgive us, we figured, as his mistress you might not feel as such, but we’ve heard tell of his courtly manner. His reinstatement of torture for criminals--”

“I am not his mistress.” Keris snapped again. “I am a criminal. One of those he has chosen to torture. I am a slut, just like all of you.” She dropped her fork and gulped, surprised by her own anger. She closed her eyes as she stood, awkwardly as the chair was too high for her. “My apologies,” She rasped, “I didn’t--”

She turned on her heel and nearly ran to the door. She slowed in the corridor as she tried to recall her bearings, shakily setting a hand on the wall as she turned the first corner. She breathed deeply, calming herself. Her mind cleared and she blinked. Her lip twitched with realization. She recalled the paper and pen hidden in her chamber; the words she had yet to write.

Rumours, rather the truth, of Thorin’s savagery had preceded him. Stained his reputation and that of his people amongst their greatest rivals. And if these negotiations failed, another war could follow. _How much more could the dwarves of Erebor abide from their king? How much more could she?_

* * *

Thorin didn’t come that night or the next. His absence was both a relief and foreboding. Keris figured his diplomatic business kept him occupied and yet, she couldn’t help but suspect he was planning something. Biding his time before he delighted in her pain. She counted each hour alone as a blessing and yet the time passed too slowly for her liking. Hiding in her borrowed chamber, she felt even more alone than she had in Erebor.

She stared at the door. It wasn’t so bad here. There wasn’t a guard outside the door nor were the others none so subtly awaiting her downfall. She missed Meha but not the black veils who looked at her so venomously. _Truly,_ she thought, _there was nothing stopping her from leaving this den._

A chill came over her as the idea suddenly seemed so novel. She could walk right out and she doubted anyone would notice her. A head shorter than most in this large palace; plain enough among a city of elves. She doubted any looked down oft enough to see a dam fleeing her imprisonment. With jagged movements, she stood. She tilted her head as she inched to the door, her head on the handle as she paused in fear.

_Where would she go from there?_ _Worse yet, if she were caught, what would Thorin do to her? Would it truly be any worse than what he had already done?_ She gripped the golden handle but her thumb could not push the lever. A flurry of voices froze her in place and she listened to the unseen furor without.

The trill of feminine voices and laughter halted Keris’ escape. Instead she listened to whatever was causing the elvesses to titter so. They weren’t so difficult to rile but the commotion was peculiar and rather late. A deep voice replied, humouring the courtesans as Keris held her breath. It sounded as if they were right on the other side of her door.

A knock shook the door against her hand and she recoiled as if she herself had been struck. Her eyes widened and she forced the air from her lungs before she passed out. Another rap sounded and she swallowed her nerves. It hadn’t been Thorin’s voice; Thorin rarely made anyone giggle so lightly. She slipped on her veil quickly. Slowly she reached out and this time lowered the lever, pulling open the door warily.

“Ah, you are awake,” Thranduil mused as he looked down at her, “Forgive me, I hope I’ve not disturbed you.”

She stared back at him wordlessly. _Why was he there? Were all kings of one vicious mind?_

“You must think I’ve come to gawk at you like some novelty, and I cannot excuse my curiosity, but it is more out of hospitality that I visit. I must make certain all my guests are comfortable,” He was rather charming for an elf, Keris thought as he spoke. The elvesses around him preened over him and he paused to excuse them with a nod, “May I come in?”

“I’ve never known a king to ask permission,” She answered curtly, at last finding her voice as her eyes followed the retreating courtesans. Suppose they gossiped as fervently as the dwarrow counterparts. Suppose Thorin heard of the elvenking’s visit... _Well, what could she truly do to avoid his wrath?_

“I do so prefer an invitation,” He grinned, “It would ease my mind to know I am not intruding.”

“And if I said you were?” She countered.

He chuckled. “Very well, then I should return to whence I came.”

Keris crinkled her brow. A long sigh escaped her and she looked down the hall once more. “Five minutes,” She allowed.

She stepped back and the lithe elvenking entered, looking around the chamber imperiously. Her bed was still unused. She would just sit and stare; trapped in her thoughts. He approached her perch and lowered himself into the armchair, crossing one leg over the other as he looked to her. _Did he know the rules? Should she avert her eyes? Address him formally?_

“I always found it odd how your kind would have their courtesans shrouded thus. In Mirkwood, we treasure beauty,” He remarked, “Though I am beginning to understand the intrigue. I am rather curious to see what is hidden beneath that veil.”

Keris frowned. Even with the lower half of her face concealed, she was sure Thranduil could see it in her eyes. She kept her distance, standing just inside the door. She crossed her arms and remained silent.

“Such a quiet creature. A wonder why the king would bother to bring such an unremarkable specimen with him.” Thranduil smirked.

“If you aim to rile me, you will have to try harder.” Keris said.

“Hmm,” The king chuckled, “Ah, you’ve found your voice.” He considered her, running his fingers along his chin thoughtfully, “And I am certain I fall short of Thorin’s knack for provocation.”

“What do you want?” She asked sharply.

“Don’t worry, my dear, I am not here to seek your services,” He waved his fingers carelessly, “Merely to see that you are well. I trust Ester has seen to you kindly, and the others have welcomed you.”

Keris tilted her head. “They haven’t much choice, do they? They do as you bid. That is what we do; we listen to our masters.”

“This is not Erebor...Forgive me, I’ve not even asked your name.”

She pressed her lips together and sighed. “Keris,” She provided with a sneer.

“Keris,” He continued as if without interruption, “But in Mirkwood, the escorts are not slaves; they are willing. Not only that, we value them. They are integral to our courts. Some even work as clerks for our council. They are not simply bodies--”

Another knock sounded. Keris had allowed herself to be distracted. She had easily ignored the voices which had preceded the rap upon her door. Assuming it to be the usual flutter of the gaggle without. The fist pounded again and her visitor could not be mistaken. She blanched and slowly looked to the door as it shook on its hinges.

“You may answer it,” Thranduil bade. “He seems most impatient that you do.”

Keris had to fight to keep from trembling. She reached out and pulled open the door, Thorin pushing it most of the way as he burst in, almost knocking her off her feet. The sight of his stoked her former rage. “It took you long en--” He stopped short as he spotted Thranduil sitting casually in the armchair. Thorin’s blue eyes flared as he looked to Keris in contempt.  He cleared his throat and forced the ire from his face as he turned to his elvish counterpart. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to have a visitor, Keris.” Thorin rarely used her name and it sent a chill through her. “Why, Thranduil, if you had wished to share my toy, you could have simply asked. You needn’t be sneaking around in your own palace.”

“I did not sneak,” Thranduil replied coolly, “I came openly and without shame to  _ speak _ with Keris. To assuage my own curiosity.”

“Please, Thranduil, the pleasure is all mine. You can take her for the night. Trust me when I say, she is quite a fiery little mouse.” Thorin grinned, “Not so compliant to be boring, and lively enough to keep you awake.”

“Truly, Thorin,” The elf stood, “I merely wanted a closer look at the dam; to offer a proper greeting.”

“Closer look, eh?” Thorin neared Keris, reaching out to rip away her veil. “Well, here she is.” He took the back of her neck and guided her harshly towards the elvenking, “I’ll bend her over myself and hold her down--”

“Thorin,” Thranduil warned, “Enough. I do not appreciate your shaming of me and the dam. We merely spoke and if you should act like a child kept from his dessert, I will not be a party to it. As it were, I am late to my appointment with Ester.” He neared the door, stopping beside the dwarf and his prisoner, “Release her.”  Thorin reluctantly removed his hand from Keris’ neck, almost shoving her away from him. “Lady Keris,” Thranduil bowed his head cordially, “Keep well.” His icy eyes thawed for a moment, surprising her with a glimmer of empathy. “King Thorin,” He turned to the king staunchly as he straightened, “I shall see you on the morrow.”

With that, the elvenking swept past them and through the door, his light footsteps fading down the hallway. Thorin watched him and slammed the door with all his might, swearing loudly in khuzdul.

“Have you been growing lonely in my absence?” He turned on Keris and she nearly tripped over her own heels.

“I did not invite him. He came of his own--”

His hand kept her from the end of her sentence. The smack stung and she cupped her cheek as she backed away. “I don’t care if he was uninvited, you should have shut the door on his damned nose. Have you so quickly forgotten your rules? You do not keep company with others beyond my purview, harlot.”

“You seemed keen enough to offer me up,” Keris snapped.

“Oh,” Thorin’s brows shot up and his lips twitched; almost as if he were amused. “This is the whore I like.” He grabbed her throat before she could evade him, “The one that just doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.”

Keris swung as hard as she could, catching his jaw with side of her fist. He released her in shock and she quickly retreated. “Ah,” He touched his chin where she had struck, “This is just like out first night together. A fond memory.” He lunged for her and she struggled as he seized her hair, tangling his fingers in her locks. “Still makes me hard.”

She fought against him despite the tearing in her scalp as he dragged her closer to the bed. “Fuck you!” She cried out, “I hate you!” Her anger seared her throat as it burst forth, “You are the most vile beast I’ve ever known.” 

She dug her nails into his hand as she grasped at him and he brought her head down on the table beside the large bed. She felt the cartilage in her nose break. She stomped her foot into his and he grunted, swinging her around and sending her flying towards the opposite wall. She crumpled onto the floor and he neared her. 

“Well, well, it seems you’ve regained your former vigour.” He crouched beside her as she looked up at him, the blood streaming from her nose. “I’ve so been looking forward to this since our departure…” He reached out, brushing the hair away from her face, “We’ll be seeing much more of each other in the months to come.”

Keris sniffed, coughing as the blood clogged her throat. She shoved Thorin’s hand away and pressed herself against the wall. 

“We must celebrate,” He grabbed her arm and she resisted his efforts to pull her to her feet.

“Celebrate...” She choked and spat blood onto his doublet, “What?”

“Erebor is to have a new heir,” He smirked and Keris’ blood turned icy. “Fallah is with child. In her condition, I’ll have to take my pleasure elsewhere.” He pulled Keris up and she wobbled on her feet, “For the baby’s sake, of course...”


	15. Rude Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris finds her time in Mirkwood as dramatic as Erebor.

The bed shifted below Keris, awaking her from the shallow sleep which had overcome her. The early light of dawn peeked through the tempered window and she looked over at Thorin’s broad back as he sat on the edge of the bed. He had never stayed so long in her chamber. Her stomach churned and her nose throbbed. She had spent most of the night in pain and sleepless for his presence. 

She pulled the blanket up, trying to hide from her circumstance. Thorin shook his head and chortled. “I’m leaving,” He said, “Don’t you worry yourself.” He stood and searched out his trousers, pulling them on in the low light. “I’ll need to change before I meet with the elvenking.” 

He neared the bed as he buckled his belt. He leaned one leg on the mattress as he tugged the covers away from Keris. He reached over, his fingers brushing over her bare stomach and his hand cupped her breast. He tweaked her nipple cruelly before rescinding his touch and she batted him away, just missing him.

He tutted and laughed to himself once more. He knelt and grabbed his tunic, pulling it over his head lithely. Next, he retrieved his overcoat and held up the blood-stained brocade. He folded it over his arm as he shoved his feet carelessly into his boots. “I’m almost intrigued to see how Thranduil would react to me showing up with your blood across my front.”

“As revolted as any other day, I’m sure,” Keris hissed as she sat up, keeping as far from him as she pulled her knees to her chest.

“That mouth of yours is of better use around my cock,” He spat, “I tire of that traitorous tongue already.”

“Would that you had any use to me,” She scowled. “Curse you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

His eyes flashed and his hands balled to fist. He huffed dangerously but steeled himself against his anger. “I shall return to you this evening and show you my worth,” He threatened, “Until then, I leave you to mull my absence. To _long_ for me.”

Keris rolled her eyes and looked away. She stared at the wall as she listened to him depart, the door closing quietly behind him. She lowered her head, her knotted hair falling forward to shroud her face. He had not ceased in his torment for half the night and she had never stopped fighting. She was resolved to hurt him as much as he did her. But he was stronger and oft she found her fists bouncing off of him without effect.

Her eyes tingled but she held back her tears. Both for her own pride and for the sake of her burning nostrils. Thorin had undoubtedly broken her nose. It had not stopped bleeding, even as he had held her down. Her blankets were streaked with errant blood and she felt the dried flakes along her lips. She stood and crossed to the basin which sat beneath the mirror hung on the opposite wall. She splashed the cool water on her face, wiping away the remnants of her struggle.

Knuckles rapped upon her door. They were soft; tentative. Keris gripped the rim of the basin and waited quietly. Her unexpected visitor knocked again. She exhaled and stepped away from the mirror before she could she her reflection true. She wrapped herself in a sheet and neared the door. She pressed down the golden lever, the door opening easily. A slender figure towered over her in the early din.

“My lady,” Ester’s voice came angelic in the morning lull, “I have been waiting for the king to depart...I was afraid you would not answer.”

Keris frowned. The expression caused a pang in her nose and she flinched. “...Why?”

“May I come in? I should not wish to embarrass you and the others should begin to rouse soon.” She kept her voice low.

“Very well,” Keris allowed. She figured she had no authority over who frequented her chambers. She stepped back and the elfess entered swiftly, closing the door silently behind her.

“We could hear...what the king did to you,” She began. As she spoke, she cross to the lantern upon the mantle. She little it easily and turned back to Keris; her blue eyes sparkled as she examined the state of the dam in the new light. “It is as I suspected, he has hurt you.”

“He has done worse,” Keris countered. “Please, your pity does me little good and your visitation even less. If he should hear I’ve been humoring your race, it should rile him further.”

“This is not how courtesans are treated in Mirkwood. Thranduil will not stand for it.” Ester declared.

“What power does Thranduil hold over Thorin? We both know his disapproval would do little to deter the other’s whims. An elf has no place in the matters of dwarves.” Keris said, “I appreciate your concern. Truly, it is more than any has shown me in months but it will not, cannot, help me.”

Ester’s statuesque features twisted in dismay. She blinked sadly and her lips turned downward. “At least let me tend to your injuries.”

Keris squinted at the elfess. She felt a weight spread across her chest. How absolutely cynical it was that she was suspicious of any ounce of kindness shown to her. The king had hardened her; she was turning into the same ilk of monster as him. She nodded, swallowing her pride. Ester waved her towards the chair and she sat, silently awaiting the elfess’s aid.

Ester whisked through the door and returned without delay, a small chest in her hands. She knelt at the dwarf’s feet with the basin beside her and stirred through the contents. She wetted the cotton and wiped around Keris’ chin and along her neck. She must have missed that. She was gentle, so much so that it unsettled Keris. Such a tender touch was foreign to her.

“I know there is little I can do for you but…” The elf pursed her lips and looked to the closed door, “My king, Thranduil, has trusted me with a message for you.” She lowered her hand, leaving the cotton to float in the basin. She reached into her bodice and withdrew a golden talisman. “He regrets that he can do little for you as yet. He has his people to attend to, but should you ever find yourself away from Thorin, you may seek asylum in Mirkwood. Show this at the gates and you will not be denied.”

Keris snorted painfully and grinned. She shook her head. “I would never make it that far.” She said.

“You may not,” The elfess agreed, taking the dam’s hand and pressing the golden disc into it, “But do not let your hope be extinguished so easily.” Keris slowly closed her fingers around the talisman and the elfess turned her attention back to the chest at her knees. 

“There is one thing I might ask of you,” Keris nearly whispered. She thought of Fallah and the words Thorin has spoke the night before. The promise he had made her. “Do you know of a way to keep one’s womb from quickening?”

Ester looked up at Keris and blinked. “Why, my lady, all under the red mantle have their ways. I would more than happily share mine with you.” She smiled, “I shall brew you a tea when I have finished with tending to you.”

* * *

Keris drank the bitter tea but it settled the bile in her stomach. She felt worse for Fallah that she was bound to Thorin not just through marriage but now a child. Her own father had sold her to the highest bidder. At least Keris could comfort herself in that it was her own actions which had led to her fate. And with the sour brew, she would prevent herself from the same condition. The thought of the king’s seed growing within her was repulsive.

Ester left her to wallow. She could see that the elf was concerned for her but had the sense to mind her wishes. Keris was thankful for all she had done but she would not take advantage of kindness. She did not need to draw any other into her misery.

When Thorin arrived that night, Keris did not censor her malice. He took her as forcefully as ever and she left jagged scratches along his arms. He growled at her and cursed her being but it did not deter his depravity. Three nights followed thus and each morning, Ester visited when he left. She offered the crimson tea and words of comfort. Her presence deepened the pit within Keris. Her kindness hurt more than any cruelty the king could incur upon her.

On the fourth day, a rap sounded on her door but it was unlike the soft knocking of the elvish mistress. Keris drew herself up from the bed where she lay in her gloom. She covered herself in her dark purple robe and crossed to the door, pausing as she spotted herself in the ovaline mirror. Dark circle shadowed her eyes and her nose was still violet from its fracture, though Ester had straightened it. She looked like she was dead already.

She shook off the spectre staring back at her and continued to the door. She opened it cautiously, a small gasp escaping her as she revealed her visitor. The silver cloak looked up and down the empty corridor. He cleared his throat as the movement of the door drew his attention.

“Mahal,” He swore, catching himself as he blanched at the dam’s appearance. “Lass, you look worse than any orc I ever laid eyes on.”

“Why are _you_ here?” She asked sharply.

“Don’t fret yourself. Thorin did not send me.” He assured, “He hasn’t any knowledge of my presence here. I hid in the shadows and watched him leave not ten minutes prior.”

“Waiting your turn?” She said sardonically.

“Don’t be crass,” He reproached, “Are ye gonna let me in?”

“For what purpose?” She challenged again.

“On behalf of the queen,” He hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “Now, before someone should see me.”

Keris shrugged and stepped back, letting Dwalin through the door and closing it behind him. He looked around the chamber, shaking his head at the chaos left in his kings stead. The blankets and sheets were cluttered from the nightly struggle and a broken lamp laid across the carpet. He turned back to her and growled.

“Why do ye fight him, lass?” He rasped, “Ye only make your suffering worse.”

“Wouldn’t you fight?” She asked, hugging herself as a sudden shiver came over her. She was suddenly ashamed.

His grey eyes darted away and he sighed. “I’m sure I would,” He grumbled to himself, “Queen Fallah sent me to check in on you. She figures you can account for the king's recent absence.”

“You can see I am in fine condition, Captain, you may tell her as much,” She returned, “Tell her not to worry herself over a whore. Besides, I thought you held higher loyalty than hers.”

“She is young. And alone.” He tried to sound nonchalant but she heard the sorrow in his voice. “It wouldn’t do well to have the king and queen living in open hostility to each other.”

“Oh, so you’re her protector now?” Keris mused, “How sweet. And she’s sent you here to be mine? No. You would never raise a hand against Thorin.”

“The queen wishes to know if she can provide you with anything?” He ignored her triteness.

“She cannot set me free, thus I require nothing of her but my solace,” Keris insisted. She turned on the silvercloak, approaching him with a sneer. “Tell me, have you deluded yourself into thinking yourself a surrogate father to the queen? Or is it the child which has drawn your sudden devotion?”

“Child?” Dwalin raised a thick brow, “What chi--The queen is pregnant?”

“Did your king not share the good news?” Keris laughed sourly. “Why, Captain, perhaps your loyalties _were_ misplaced.”

His eyes flicked back and forth as he thought. He turned his burly back to Keris and approached the door, pausing to look back at her. “I have only served Erebor,” He nodded as his hand rested on the handle, “And shall continue to do so until I die.” With that, he pulled open the door and stomped off into the early dusk. 

Keris’ stomach roiled and she sat to wait for her morning tea. She felt a dampness along her thighs as she rested upon the chair. She reached under her robe and her trembling fingers came away bloody. She would not need it that day. 


	16. Darkest of Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris is made to suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so many trigger warnings for this chapter. TW: noncon, mentions of miscarriage, general terribleness.
> 
> I am very sorry for all that I've put Keris through but I promise, it won't always be bad.
> 
> And as always, comments and feedback are AWESOME! Please, it really helps me carry on with the series and also decide on where to go next :) I've already tweaked certain plot points because comments help more than you know. Thanks for reading and thanks for sticking by Keris.

Keris’ monthly condition did not keep her from Thorin’s torment. The dwarf had never been fazed by the messiness and it seemed he reveled more in her than anything. The second day was always the worst. The twisting cramps, the heaviness in her loins, the feeling that she was twice her true size. She was curled up on her bed when she heard a rise of voices in the foyer; the nightly signal that the king had arrived.

She dragged herself from the mattress, straightening her gown. She stood, waiting for him, eyes narrowed on the door. Thorin didn’t knock, he thundered in as usual, the door closing behind him with a slam. He ignored her as he unclasped his cloak and tossed it over the armchair. His crown clattered onto the table lazily as he sat heavily on the sofa with a sigh. He tapped his toe impatiently as she watched him lean back his head.

“Well,” He opened one eye, “This chamber is freezing. Feed the fire.”

She rolled her eyes and begrudgingly obeyed him. She knelt to set a log atop the embers, gripping her pelvis with one hand as she stirred the kindling. The soot smell rose to her nostrils. The scent reminded her of her childhood. She paused. She hated the way her emotions piqued with her hormones. She hadn’t dared to think of those days so long ago. Not since she had been sentenced to this misery. It hurt too much. 

_ What would her mother think of her?  _ The questioned had always lingered with her but she had ignored it until then. Blurring the syllables before they could form fully in her mind. Her mother, who had worked so hard to teach her the skills needed to make a living. Keep your head down, do your work, and live humbly.  _ She had done everything so wrong. _

“It’s too bad you’re such a wily bitch,” Thorin’s sharp words interrupted her self-loathing. She felt a warmth rising behind her as the flames began to lick in front of her. He was looking at her and it made her shudder. “You’ve got a nice ass. What a waste.”

“Why are you here?” She snarled as she stood, crossing her arms. “Why do you come every night if you hate me so?”

“Hmm,” He chortled under his breath, stretching his arm across the back of couch. “Come, sit beside me.” Keris stared at him, unmoving. “Your nose has healed well. It’d be a shame to have to set it a second time.”

She swallowed the threat and stiffened. She walked to the couch slowly and sat beside him, keeping as far from Thorin as she could. “Closer.” He beckoned. When she didn’t listened, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her against him sharply, holding her close with the arm that slipped down over her shoulder. “Mahal knows I despise your obstinate mind, but that body…” His other hand nestled on her thigh, kneading through the skirts of her dress as he pressed his nose to her cheek. His hot breath seared her. “The first night I took you, I admit, I did it out of spite. The worst punishment for a dam is to have her jewel stolen from her.” He shifted closer, “But I’ve never had a dam fight so fiercely against me. Truly, none have ever denied me. I’m a king. Yet you...you _still_ fight and Mahal, it gets me hard.”

Keris pulled back, repulsed by his lurid growl. She raised her hand to strike him and he caught it in midair. He smirked as she realized her mistake. “I ought to break that little wrist,” He squeezed. “I could,” He raised a brow, examining her arm as if making up his mind. He released her and stood suddenly. “Undress me.”

She frowned as he waited. Slowly, she rose and rounded him, keeping her eyes down as she unbuttoned his overcoat dutifully. She could feel him watching her. She didn’t dare return his gaze. She pulled his jacket down his arms, folding it and setting it on the cushion atop his cloak. She tugged at the hem of his tunic and he raised his arms as she bared the dark hair along his chest and arms, the trail which disappeared below his belt. That was placed neatly with his overcoat.

She reached for his belt and he caught her hand before she could touch the metal. “Look at me,” He commanded. She did as he said, her eyes dull but rebellious. “Keep those eyes up here.” He let go of her, “Continue.”

Keris let out a long silent breath. She took his buckle blindly and undid, loosing his belt and picking at the laces of his pants. Without looking, her fingers grazed his hardened member and he groaned. “It’s too bad your bloody,” He said, “I’m not of the mood for a mess tonight.” Her brows arched without her permission. She continued her work, eager to be done with it.

When at last his boots and socks were set beside the chair which held his attire, Thorin walked shamelessly to the bed, his arousal bouncing with each step. He lowered himself onto his stomach and Keris’s confusion spiked. “My back is sore,” He declared, “I need those little hands of yours to work out the knots.”

Still trying to figure out his ploy, Keris neared and climbed up on her knees beside Thorin. She reached over, her hands hovering over his firmly muscled and scarred back. She forced herself to touch him, feeling the stress locked within his flesh. She rubbed it mindlessly, hoping the small act would win her an early night.

“Get atop me, you dumb harlot,” Thorin spat as he lifted his head. She gulped back a retort and obeyed, straddling him from behind. She set to working on his shoulders and he moaned, low like a wolf nearing its prey. “Mmm, those hands of yours…”

She kept to her task, pretending she was kneading dough for baking. Dreaming that she was not atop the monster in her nightmare. Her pelvis ached and she shifted atop him. Her stomach twisted and she bit her lip.

“Get off,” He ordered and she eagerly did so. He rolled over, his member erect and twitching. “Go on then.” He nodded to his cock. She reached for it and he tutted at her. “Not your hands.”

“I’ll bite it off,” She threatened, another cramp tearing through her.

The king sat up suddenly, seizing her by her hair and pulling her so that nose almost touched his. “It goes in your mouth or I will shove it up your ass. Now, be a good dam and service your king.”

He released her and she sneered at him, unable to keep the dangerous flare from her eyes. Thorin laid back and spread his legs, watching her as she moved between them. Slowly, she bent over him, staring down his throbbing cock with repressed disgust. She leaned closer, moistening the tip with her tongue as her dry lips met his the pink flesh. She could taste his salty pre-cum already.

As her lips slid around the thick head, his hand snaked behind her head again and forced himself all the way to her throat. Her hands slapped his thighs as she tried not to choke and he began to guide her head. Up, down, up, down. She held back retches as he went further and further down her throat, each thrust burning more than the last. She closed her eyes and let him fuck her mouth, waiting for it to end.

He grasped her hair with both hands, removing himself as he flipped her over, climbing over her as he did. With his legs on either side of her head, he pushed his cock back into her mouth and began again; this time even harder. Her eyes rolled back as she tried not to vomit and she clung to thighs, pleading with him wordlessly.  His groans grew louder as his pace quickened and Keris was sure she would pass out. He rammed as deep as he could and she thrashed as he cried out, slowing as his seed exploded, filling her mouth as he pumped through his climax. She was drowning and all she could do was swallow, eliciting further moans from the king.

Thorin removed himself and she rolled over hanging her head off the edge of the bed as she puked onto the floor. His seed mixed with her stomach acid and the sole piece of bread she had managed to eat that day. Her stomach continued to revolt thought there was nothing left and it felt as if a dagger was being driven into her womb, 

“Enough of that,” He smacked her ass so hard it stung through the fabric of her skirts. She laid back, trying to catch her breath as he wriggled off the other side of the bed. “Don’t be so dramatic.” He rounded the footboard and stopped beside the chair where his clothes rested. “Excuse my brusqueness this night, I do, however, have somewhere to be. We have but a few days left here and there is still much business to be done.” 

He pulled on his pants and sighed as the fabric brushed his softening cock, “A gift for you, truly, as I shall be absent until we depart.” He stated. “Our journey back should be quicker and I should have more chance to seek you out.” He turned to her, his blue eyes boring into as she gripped her pelvis. “And I _will_ seek you out. Now that Fallah’s with child, I can’t fuck her in the carriage when I please. Seems I can’t fuck her at all these days.”

Keris exhaled, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. She could barely hear the king as her head swam. She closed her eyes as they began to water. “Well,” Thorin interrupted her dissemblance, “I am leaving. Are we forgetting ourselves?”

Keris forced her eyes to open, though her head was heavy. She rose, stepping over the puddle of vomit beside the bed. She bowed to him, trying not to lose her balance. “Your majesty,” She croaked.

“You do have such a pretty little mouth,” He patted her head, “One day, I will tame it.”

He left her there and she watched his boots near the door. As it closed, she fell to her knees, her stomach roiling. It was much more than revulsion; something was wrong with her. She crawled on her hands and knees towards the bath chamber door but she only made it halfway through as she collapsed across the threshold. Her eyes closed to a black so deep, she was sure she would never wake up.

Through the dark, flashes struck her. A blond figure knelt over her, Ester’s blue eyes peered down at her as she felt her body floating. Keris glanced down and found that the elfess was carrying her to the bed. The stain of red along her purple skirts was the last she saw before the black took her again.

Then she woke to a maid scrubbing the floor. Then a cool hand on her head. Someone feeling around her pelvis. Again, her eyes fluttered open as hushed voices carried from the corner. She was weak but she managed to roll over enough, vomiting again onto the floor. She passed out with her head hanging from the mattress.

When at last her consciousness pieced itself back together, she woke with a semblance of awareness. Ester was sat in the armchair pulled close to the bed. The sheets had been changed and Keris wore a fresh nightgown. The elfess looked to her, reaching out with a porcelain hand to keep her from sitting up.

“You need your rest, dear,” She said kindly, “You must be well for your trip home.”

“H-how long have I been asleep?” Keris rasped, “W-what happened to me?”

Ester’s angelic face darkened and she stood, sitting on the edge of the bed as she took Keris’ hand in hers. “The tea.” She said quietly, “It did its work.”

“It did. My womb has not quickened.” Keris affirmed groggily.

“Dear,” Ester’s voice was sombre, “It did, but the brew took care of that.”

“W-what? Oh,” Keris choked at the realization. She had lost a child. Thorin’s child. She was glad for it, yet it startled her. “G-good.” She recalled the whispers she had heard in her delirium, “Does the king know?”

“No one but me and the healer,” Ester assured, “No one else has come to visit. They won’t know any different. Which is why you need rest. You cannot keep your secret if you are unwell.”

Keris nodded and relaxed. She was too weak to care. She squeezed the elfess’ hand. “Thank you.” Ester gave a sad smile, unable to keep her eyes from glistening.

“Sleep,” She placed her hand stop Keris forehead, granting her a few hours of peace before she was due to depart. The elfess would stay until then. The dam needed a friend, if only until the dawn.


	17. The Road Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The court of Erebor set off for their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so the usual warnings apply. Triggers to follow; noncon, mentions of miscarriage and suicidal intent.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's read along with this harsh saga. There is still much to come. I promise, next chapter will see much more maneuvering by Keris as she returns to the Mountain but for now, just little more trauma. Please bear with me as this story has gone beyond my initial intent but I love you all and thanks again for reading and as always, comments are cherished (both my me and Keris).

Ester woke Keris just before dawn. Still weakened, the dam rose with a vacant stare, dressing out of habit more than anything. She felt as if she had been drained, wavering every time she blinked. The elfess had packed her singular trunk as she slept and she thanked her kindly as the attendants came to fetch her luggage. She would have been dead, or worse, pregnant, without the Mirkwood madame.

“I sewed the medallion into the corset with the roses on it,” Ester bent to whisper in Keris’ ear, “Don’t let them find it. I am certain one day you will have need of it.”

“Thank you, for everything,” Keris’ voice was low; she could barely find the strength to speak.

“Eat,” The elf placed a square of flaky bread in her hand, “It is lembas. One bite and you will feel better.”

Ester stared down the dam until she took a mouthful, chewing through the crumbly grain. She swallowed as a figure appeared in the doorway where the attendants had just passed through with her lone chest. Dwalin raised a brow and turned a shoulder to the door, standing stoically as he awaited her.

“I must go,” Keris looked up at Ester; she felt as if she were hollow and heavy all at once. “Back to Erebor.”

“Keep yourself safe, Lady Keris,” The elfess bowed to her, “I pray we shall meet again.”

Keris nodded and turned away, her feet moving a little easier than before. She felt a prick at the corner of her eyes. All her life, she had longed like any dwarf to return to the Mountain and now it was a fate she dreaded. And leaving this elfess who had been so compassionate to her without an inkling of her character. It was like tossing away her last sliver of hope. “Goodbye, Lady Ester.”

Keris knew she was moving slowly but she was in too much pain to hurry. Her insides tore with each step. Ester and her healers had stemmed the bleeding and erased any trace of her miscarriage, but she still felt it within. It was an ache that was more than physical. As she reached Dwalin, she exhaled heavily, both from exhaustion and excess.

“Y’alright, lass?” He asked. _How long had it been since he had called her harlot?_ It had once been his only name for her. Oh, how his pity was worse than his spite.

“Fine,” She assured him, “Tired, and not looking forward to the road home.”

_ And I will seek you out _ , the king’s promise returned to her as she passed into the corridor. She’d have a few days grace as he would assume she was still in the red, but it would make the journey even longer. She’d rather Dis and the princesses dragged her out for another lashing. 

She was almost hobbling to keep up with Dwalin as they neared the doors of the palace, standing open in the early morning sunlight. The two kings were giving their farewells with every semblance of formality; banners, brocade, and false niceties. Keris was thankful only that it allowed her a swift and unnoticed exit.  Well, for the most part. The queen looked over as she descended the steps just behind the final meeting of monarchs. She smiled at Keris but the purple-draped dam merely lowered her chin and carried on. Fallah’s rosy cheeks betrayed her condition, but her middle had yet to grow. By the time they reached Erebor, she would surely be showing quite clearly; another month at least before they saw the sinister stone of their homeland.

Dwalin led Keris down the line of carriages and pulled open the door, standing with arms crossed as he waited for her to enter. She grabbed the door frame with both hands, hauling herself up with a grunt. She fell onto the stiff seat and let her head loll back across the cushioned headrest. Her eyes closed against the slat of sun shining in through the curtains.

“Sure ye fine?” Dwalin’s weight shifted the carriage as he entered, “You look pale.”

“I have grown adverse to the early hour,” She lied, holding back a shiver. Despite the sweat pooling in the small of her back, she was cold. If it was told true, before that night, she hadn’t slept for days. She suspected that pattern would hold for much of the trek.

She felt his eyes on her as he heaved a deep sigh and slowly sat, He cleared his throat and she crossed her arms, nestling closer to the wall of the carriage. The seat was the only support she had and she could have as easily slid onto the floor and curled up in a ball there. “Mmm,” He grumbled, “Well, if ye gonna be sick, give me a warning. I’m not want to travel with vomit in my lap.”

Keris ignored his words. She wasn’t sure if it was a joke or genuine concern. Either way, she was unprepared for more than his usual distaste. She had enough to fret about.

* * *

It was a week before Thorin ventured down the train of carriages and carts to disturb Keris. They had set up camp for the night, watch had been set, and she had been close to dosing despite the anxiety which had remained with her since their departure. Dwalin was outside, sitting on the wooden step meant for ladies to climb up into the carriage. He was peeling an apple with a knife, his broad shoulders visible through the open door. The dam he has been tasked with escorting was sat with her back against the side of the carriage, legs spread across the seat.

“Eh,” Dwalin greeted, clutching his knife tighter as footsteps neared. The tension left the muscles of his back as he recognized the visitor. “Yer majesty,” He stood to greet his king, “What can I do for ye?”

“Nothing, my friend,” Thorin clapped his shoulder, “But may I suggest you stretch your legs. A day sat pent up in a carriage, it makes you soft.”

“Mmm,” Dwalin glanced over his shoulder. He knew the king was giving an order for him to leave them alone. He nodded and looked back to Thorin, nodding slowly. He sidestepped, hesitating for just a second, before turning fully away. He bit into a slice of apple and departed, but Keris wasn’t sure how far he would go. She sat up, the voices rousing her from her hope of slumber.

“I hope I haven’t woke you,” Thorin taunted as he climbed up into the carriage. It felt like a violation. Him in that small space. The only one he had yet to invade. “Then again, you’re as much use to me asleep as you are awake.”

Keris dropped her feet onto the floor and scowled as Thorin adjusted the lantern hanging on the wall of the carriage. It had been at a low glow to allow Keris to close her eyes, but enough for Dwalin to pare his fruit. He sat beside her, not even enough space to breath. “Fallah’s not stopped being sick since we set out.”

“I don’t care about your wife,” She spat, “What do you want?”

“I should be offended on behalf of my queen, but I can’t say I care about her much but for fact that she has my heir in her stomach,” He scoffed, “What does bother me, however, is your lack of courtesy. You need to recall your rules, whore.” He seized her arm, forcing her off the seat to her knees. “Can’t we be nice, for once?”

“Why don’t you just kill me already. That’s what you wanted from the start,” She snapped back at him. He took her chin and brought his nose close to hers, glaring at her.

“You’re more fun to have alive,” He sneered, “Besides, I still haven’t taught you your lesson.”

“You’re right,” She hissed, “If I had a pen, I’d as soon write about how much of a bastard you are. Better, I stab it through your eye.”

It happened quickly. So quickly that Keris couldn’t react. Thorin’s hand slid down to her throat and he slammed her against the opposite wall, her legs going slack beneath her. She crumpled onto the seat as he released her and turned to close the door. He slammed it shut, the clasp nearly breaking. He turned to her, unbuckling his belt violently as he got closer.  As she tried to stand, Thorin pushed her back down on the seat and pulled at her skirts until they tore. He forced a leg between hers, seizing her by her hair to lift her head, so hard he almost ripped it out. He smacked her across the face and she made to return her own, only to have him bat her away easily. 

He shoved his free hand between her legs, burrowing through her skirts to reach her most vulnerable part. She beat against his shoulders but it made no difference. He shoved a finger inside and lifted it up to examine. “I see you’re through your days.”

“Fuck you,” She snarled.

“We’re getting to that,” He rasped.

He began to unlace his trouser, pushing her legs further apart with his other knee. His hand untangled from her hair, winding around to her throat and lifting her as he bared himself, the tip of his member poking at her thigh. Keris gasped as his grip tightened on her neck and he lined himself up with her entrance, pushing into her sharply.  He thrust into her, holding up her weight with only the hand at her throat. She was forced to wrapped her legs around him so she did not suffocate. 

“Good girl,” He grinned and she closed her eyes. She couldn't bare to look at him. He continued to take her, growing rougher with each moan, yet he didn’t stop. It seemed to carry on forever.

She was about to pass out when she felt the sickening warmth burst within her, seeping down her legs as he removed himself from inside her. But he didn’t let go of her neck. He squeezed tighter and tighter until she was clawing at his hand. Her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, losing all strength until she was slapping at him weakly with flat palms, dots forming at the corner of her vision.

The king’s blue eyes floated before her as he watched her. He let go just as the blackness was about to take over. He tilted his head as she sputtered, drawing air desperately through her ragged throat as she wriggled on the floor. His hand found his member, still hard, and began to stroke. He groaned in delight.

He grabbed her shoulder and she let him roll her over, her head still spinning. He tore her skirts further, exposing her rear as his weight settled atop her. His elbow was at her shoulder, his arm holding her down as he pressed her into the wooden floor. Her body jolted with his first thrust, her entrance still stinging from his former assault. She made herself still, willing herself to just let it happen. The sooner it was over, the better. 

She was barely conscious when he came the second time. He removed himself, slapping her ass as hard as he could. He toed her with his boot as he secured his belt and neatened his hair. “You alive?” He asked. She shuddered in confirmation and he laughed.  “Right, you have a good night,” He chimed and she heard the door unclasp and swing open, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Thorin left her there and she fell into the void. When she next opened her eyes, there was a shadow in the doorway but it wasn’t the king's. Dwalin neared, kneeling down to turn her over and arrange her skirts over her nudity. “Keris,” He called her by her name; as if she was truly a person. “Is it alright if I move ye?”

She nodded, her head lolling side to side. He lifted her carefully and set her on the seat, his eyes glued to her neck. She felt his thick calloused fingers as they touched the tender flesh at her throat, saw the glisten in his grey eyes. She surely must have been seeing things. “Can I get you some water?”

“No,” Her voice was rasp, burning her throat as she spoke. “Just…” She swallowed, a tear streaming from her eye unbidden, “Please, kill me. I can’t take it anymore. Kill me before he does.”

“I...I can’t,” He stuttered, looking away in shame.

“Then leave me be,” She reached up to draw his fingers away from her neck, “Let me suffer, but do not make it worse by acting like you care.” She turned away from him, pulling her feet up onto the seat as she huddled beneath the remnants as her skirts, “All I want is sleep.”

Keris closed her eyes and waited for his presence to shift. She felt him rise from the seat and heard the creak as he crossed to the other, lowering himself with a grunt. They both knew she wasn’t going to sleep but she wasn’t going to speak to him either.


	18. The Mountain Awaits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris returns to Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 18! I kinda can't believe we're already this far. But there isn't too much bloodiness in this one, more moving of pieces. I hope you all enjoy and I thank you for your readership and your patience. As always, comments are appreciated and super helpful. I love you all and without further ado, here's Keris.

By the time the procession of dwarves had come in sight of their home, Keris’ physical injuries had all but healed. The dark peak of Erebor sliced through the horizon and her stomach churned with each turn of the wagon wheel. Returning to her former confines made her suffering seem all the more dire. In Mirkwood, the king had visited her often and on the road his torment hadn’t lessened. Yet coming back to the mountain was a sobering prospect.

Much of her journey had been spent in silence. Dwalin sat across from her, arms crossed as he stared out the window. She refused to look at him since that first night Thorin had come to see her on the road. It was both shame and anger which kept her from acknowledging her escort. She was ashamed of what the king did to her and the way he left her to be found when he had finished. Angry that the silver cloak should stand by passively and that she had let herself come so close to trusting him.

Keris hadn’t realized until that night when Dwalin had picked her up off the floor and she had reproached him. She had grown used to his company and had let herself fall into a false sense of security. Somewhere, deep down in that shell of her former self, she had expected him to protect her. But he hadn’t and she should not have believed that he would. She was merely clinging to useless sliver of hope.

The road home was the worst days of her imprisonment. She had nothing to distract her and no one to speak to. She didn’t sleep and only sat on the carriage bench, counting the seconds, though she did not yearn for their destination. The did not stop that last night, so close to the Mountain that if they carried on, they’d be ascending the pass by dawn.

“He’s sent scouts ahead,” Dwalin’s voice cut through the night. The moon was hidden behind clouds and only a half dozen stars could be discerned. “To prepare for the royal arrival.” Keris squinted and looked at the silver cloak. He was rarely one to speak unbidden. “The queen has begun to show and he would make the announcement directly upon his return.”

Keris shrugged and turned her attention back to the window, the shadows of trees and sharp stones lining their path.

“Keris…” Dwalin pled, begging for a response.

“Do you think you can atone for Thorin’s sins this way?” She hissed, keeping her eyes on the uneven landscape. “You can protect Fallah little more than you can me, and her child will be no different.” She turned her eyes sharply to the royal guard, “This Mountain cannot be saved. It has been lost since the day Smaug swooped in and spread his sickness through its corridors.”

Dwalin stared back at her, a startled look upon his face. His bottom lip fell open and he sighed, shifting in his seat. Finally he tore his eyes away. He knew she was right. They were all doomed. 

That same stony silence returned and was filled only by the creaking of the wheels beneath them and the huffing of the tired horses which pulled the parade of passengers. The sun rose slowly, lending a grey palour to the sky. Winter was near and its harbingers stood around with crooked branches, a carpet of rotting leafs at their base.

It wasn’t until noon that they made their return in full. Much of the morning, dwarves had been pushing carriages up the steep slope and dislodging wheels from between rocks. They were awaited by the small council left behind to rule on the king’s behalf and a crowd of eager citizens.  As she was at the rear, Keris had only just climbed down from her carriage as the crowd fell into order and the king stood at their head upon a wooden platform. The word of the scouts made certain the his announcement was made with all formality and no fanfare was spared. A horn stilled the sea of voices and Thorin offered his hand to his queen, pulling her up beside him in a show of gallantry. If one looked close enough, they could see the tension in Fallah’s smile; that the flush in her cheeks was more than the seed growing in her womb. The king was a talented actor.

“My people,” His voice boomed, “I am pleased to be welcomed so warmly back to Erebor. Home! But I do not come empty handed. I come with pleasant news. Firstly, my journey to the elvish kingdom was a success.” He raised a finger in the air pointedly, “Mirkwood is again our ally and we will have our war reparations.” He lowered his hand, “Secondly,” He placed his palm flat against Fallah’s stomach, cupping her small bump and a mutter rippled through the crowd, “Erebor shall have a new heir.”

Among the stir of voices, stunned and elated at the news, Keris noticed the dowager to the left of the platform. She stood next to her sons and their wives, her face twisted in a dark scowl. Her sons were displaced. Princes without a hope of a crown. It would have made Keris smirk if she had any sense of pleasure left to her.

“Can you take me to the den?” Keris turned to her escort, “I am tired.”

“Can’t,” Dwalin grumbled, “The king’s having council as soon as this is done.”

“Then get one of your minions to take me,” She spat, “I care not, I merely want to be gone from here,” She crossed her arms and resisted a glance up at the platform, “Away from him.” 

Dwalin frowned as he considered her. A flicker of pity swirled in his grey eyes and he sighed. He signalled to a nearby grey cloak with two fingers. “Take her back to her den,” He ordered the guard, “She’s no longer needed here.” Keris turned to follow the guard as he muttered and waved her to the other side of the crowd. “Oi,” Dwalin caught her arm before she could follow, “Take care of yerself.”

She ripped her arm from his grip and left without a farewell. She followed the grey cloak into the small door carved into the Mountain, unnoticed by the swarm distracted by the royal news. Their joy was muffled by the dark corridors and the further they ventured, the more distant they grew. She just wanted to lay down and forget everything. Just until the king called to her again. A couple hours; even just one. She needed to sleep before she went insane.

The large red doors greeted her and the deja vu which overcame her was stifling. It was unpleasant nostalgia. One that soured the saliva in her mouth and made her dizzy. She’d rather the grey cloak show her to a cell in the grimy dungeons hidden deep below. He looked at her with the disgust she had grown used to and she pushed open the door without hesitation. She could, at least, hide in there.

Yet, when she opened the door, she was greeted by a fervour. She hadn’t thought much of the courtesans being absent from the royal welcome. They weren’t often publicly included in court events. Keris couldn’t understand the words at first, but the tone was all too familiar. On the edge of panic, restrained enough that it wasn’t shrill. Someone was hurt.

A blur of red crashed into Keris as she stepped into the large foyer. She caught Meha’s arm before she could stumble over, a basin of water in her hands, sloshing over the sides and onto the stone floor. “What’s going on?” She asked of the wide-eyed red veil.

“You’re back?” Her voice nearly cracked with shock.

“Yes, now tell me,” Keris paused and looked around. Many of the veils were sat on the sofas, talking to each other in low voices. Hushed gossip adding to the tension which filled the den. “What’s got everyone in such a tiff?”

“It’s--” She blanched and the basin trembled in her hands. Keris steadied it and took it from Meha. “Caina.”

“What happened?” Keris felt her heart race. All thoughts of sleep had drifted away from her.

“We--we found her this morning. One of the lords visited last night. We could hear her screaming but we thought---well some of them like that.” She choked and her eyes shone with tears. “He beat her bloody, Keris, and left her like that all night.”

“Fuck,” Keris rasped and stepped past Meha, sweeping down the corridor, past the bodies trying to peer into the room where Caina hosted her visitors. 

Keris entered, looking over at the dam lying unconscious but breathing atop the bed. She set down the basin on the bedside table and forced her way past the dams who looked over her nervously. She took a waiting rag and dipped it into the way, dabbing at the dried blood along Caina’s brow and swollen cheek.

“Don’t be fools,” Keris hissed, “Go fetch a proper healer.”

She kept to her work. Many times it had been her in a similar position but this was much worse. Caina had always had a sharp tongue but Keris didn’t hate her. Surely she never wanted to see her like this. She caught herself as she chewed on her lip, her anxiety burgeoning in a fiery ball within her chest.

“Is she okay?” Meha’s squeak nearly frightened Keris.

“I think so,” Keris said quietly, “I’ve survived worse and I think she’s a spell stronger than me.” She stood and dropped the rag in the basin. “We can’t be sure until the medic arrives.” A black dot caught Keris' eye and she looked past Meha to Dorina as stepped into the doorway and crossed her arms with a harrumph. There was not a tinge of empathy beneath her blatant irritation at the inconvenience of an abused dam. “You!” Keris stormed towards her, “You let this happen.”

“If anything, the dam got herself into trouble with that mouth of hers,” Dorina scoffed.

Keris held back a retort, instead breathing deep and shaking her head. “I hope it was worth the silver,” She uttered quietly as a familiar grey head appeared behind the mistress. The same medic who saw to her on several occasions. “Meha,” She turned to the other dam, “Help me unpack my trunk while the healer looks over Caina.”

“But--” Meha began.

“It will do her no good to have an audience,” Keris glared back at Dorina as she passed by her, “Come on.”

Keris left without awaiting a response. She was assured by Meha’s scurrying footsteps only seconds later right beside her. She led the fraught dam into her darkened chamber, lighting a lamp in boiling silence. She swept through to her bath chamber and scattered the vials, pulling forth the inkwell. She stomped back into the bedchamber and felt behind the mirror before digging in the single armchair, the same one Thorin favoured, and pulled out the bundle of paper.

“Sit,” She motioned Meha to the chair by the table. She set down the inkwell, pen, and parchment with three decisive clunks. “Do you recall when I told you a pen could change your life?”

“Y-yes,” Meha stared up at her in confusion.

“It can change Caina’s too.” Keris took a deep breath, trying to quell her anger before it spilled over. “It can change yours and every dams’ in this godforsaken brothel. It can change the life of every soul in this cursed mountain.”

“How?” Caina asked in a whisper.

“All you have to do is write what I say,” She gently gripped the dam’s shoulder, standing over her, “And I’ll take care of the rest. My work is not yet done. Not until I haven’t a breath left in my body.”


	19. Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keris waits as the pieces slowly begin to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long for this chapter. And a million more apologies as the next ones may take a while as well. As I start to tie things together and advance the plot, I have a few loose ends to work on so I am currently fine tuning all that loveliness. But thank you so much for your patience :) And for reading. It means so much.
> 
> As always, remember the trigger warning and leave some feedback if you can :) It helps more than you know. But without further ado, here we go.

_ ‘...So it is that the mountain is emblematic of the inequality of its people. The king and his extorters sit on high as the common folk toil away for their benefit. The throne and its associates care not for the blood from which they flourish, only for the gold in their pocket and the feasts upon their trestles.  _

_ Now we call for this mountain to be overturned. That the masses take what is rightfully theirs from the few who have usurped it. Take back your livelihoods. We did not reclaim this mountain for another dragon to sit upon his hoard and rein cruelty down upon its citizens. For that’s what we are; you are. We are citizens of Erebor and you have as much a right to its bounties as the lords on their corrupt council and the king on his tainted throne. _

_ So it is to you that the choice falls: live as you are and die from your indignity or fight for what you have earned, for the prosperity promised you by the very same Durin who has now wrenched it from your hands and sentenced you to squalor. Rise or be swept away with the greed which has poisoned this realm.’ _

Keris’ words were surprisingly eloquent on the tongue of the king. She laid in his bed, slowly awaking from the turmoil of the previous night. Thorin was behind her, sat at his table with his most favoured counselor at his elbow. Balin had arrived with a frantic knock, the king grumbling as he untangled himself from the mess of blankets. Keris kept her eyes closed, still groggy and as sore as ever. Her secret machinations had made her more comfortable upon the royal mattress. She was a snake in Thorin’s bed and he saw her as nothing more than a mouse. It was shockingly satisfying.

She listened as the parchment crinkled and the king’s fist landed in a harsh blow upon the table. A curse rose from his lips, both pained and frustrated. “Balin,” he growled, “You swore to me that you were rooting out these treacherous vermin. You said that this whore in my bed would see the rest of them scattered,” Keris stiffened but made no move to rise. She would languish in her feigned slumber. 

“Your majesty, since her arrest, we have uncovered dozens of her conspirators. You’ve seen them beheaded yourself, but I never said that this would be simple.” The Lord of the Chamber exasperation wore through as he spoke. “A month ago, we were close. These pamphlets were still floating around but they hadn’t the same effect.” He took a breath, cautious of his next words, “But these martyrs you’ve been making, they’ve not helped. Perhaps mercy--”

“Mercy!?” Thorin boomed, “Mercy for those who would return this mountain to the dragon from the hands of their rightful king? There is only one punishment for such traitorous crimes.”

“Yes, your majesty, I do not disagree, but we cannot risk a revolt--”

“There will be no revolt,” Thorin declared. “I have my silvercloaks, my greybacks, my lords. These commoners couldn’t wield a shovel let alone a sword.” Balin sighed but said nothing. “You will sniff out these rats and stomp them out once and for all.”

“As you wish,” Balin relented, parchment shuffled again. “The scouts have sighted your cousin. Dain should be in within the day.”

“Good,” Thorin purred, “He should be happy to see I’ve gotten a child on Fallah.”

“Yes…” Balin agreed tenuously, “Though, I think…” Keris could feel a warmth gathering upon her back. “He should like you to show her the dignity owed a queen.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin spat, “The last he was here, he met my whore, asked me for a go of her himself. He has several in his own hills; Fallah has several bastard siblings accompanying her father at this very time on his royal visit.” He chuckled, “Why, what am I to entertain myself with now that my queen is bound by my seed?”

“Very well,” Balin allowed. A chair scraped across the stone and the aging counselor grunted, “I should go and ready for their imminent arrival. Should they arrive by suppertime, I expect a feast is due.”

“I expect so,” Thorin returned, “Report to me when they are at our threshold.”

“Your majesty.” The counselor excused himself, measured footsteps followed by the creaking of the chamber door.

“Perhaps…” Thorin surprised Keris as he lowered himself back into bed, wrapping his arm around her middle as he snarled in her ear, “I _should_ allow Dain a tumble with you. I mean, he signed me over his daughter to fuck, a whore is less than a fair trade.” Keris stiffened against his touch but did not pull away; that would only anger him. “Well, did you hear anything interesting?”

“Would that your privileged woes were so interesting,” She replied dryly.

“I was thinking…” He forced her onto her back and ripped away the blanket, toying roughly with her breast, “My child will need a playmate.” His hand slid down to her stomach, “I was hoping I’d get a bastard on you by now but it’s not too late. My nephews are a couple years apart and they are inseparable.”

Keris swallowed, keeping her eyes to the canopy as Thorin’s fingers slipped between her folds. “Why, I’d say, when that happy day comes you will have achieved the status you’ve always dreamed of, hmm? No longer a peasant writing her insolence but a mistress carrying her king’s child. Many could not hope for such an ascent.” She bristled at his words; it was more a nightmare. “Maybe a child would make you more tolerable.” He shoved his hand between her thighs, his fingers entering her sharply. He was already hard against her thighs, his robe barely concealing his erection. 

He climbed over her, unknotting the belt of his robe and let the silk fall open. Keris closed her eyes, his long hair tickled her cheek and sent a shudder through her. He replaced his fingers with his cock, the force of his entrance causing her to exclaim. “I never asked...” His voice was dark as he spoke between thrusts, “Did you want to fuck the elvenking?”

“Huh?” Keris’ eyes shot open. It had been weeks since they left Mirkwood. The king had seemingly forgotten about the trip. “N-no.”

“I should have let him take you,” He continued to move within her, his hand gathering her hair in a knot and pulling her head back painfully against the pillows. “Maybe it would’ve sweetened the negotiations.” He grunted as he spoke, “Mahal.” He sped up, his seed exploding from him as he released a slew of curses.

Thorin remained inside of her, collapsing against her, his face cradled in the crook of Keris’ neck. He panted and she cringed as she felt his cum slowly seeping around his member. She would make certain to drink her tea when she was released back to the den. She waited for the king to remove himself but instead, he lifted himself and began to fuck her again, his cock twitching back to life. This time, it was slower; precise.  He leaned back so that he straddled her, his bent legs pinning her as his hands explored her torso. A thumb found her bundle of nerves and she felt a peculiar tingle. Her breath hitched as he kept his pace deliberate, rubbing circles around her clit. _What was he doing_? He had ever only been rough in his attentions.

Her eyes widened in panic as the tingle intensified, a thrumming spread down her thighs and rattled her walls. She had never felt this before. She didn’t want to feel this with him and yet the racing of her heart drowned out the protests in her head. She reached down to try to push his hand away but his other quickly seized her wrists and pinned them against her chest.  He was smirking at her. “No, no, no,” She mewled, her voice rising as the waves grew stronger. The tension snapped and her back arched against her will and she hissed, trying to hold back the sudden exclamation which rose within her. She bit her lip as the unfamiliar sensation over took her, her heart beating to a paramount as he fire swirled in her pelvis, slithering up her torso and down her legs. 

The king released her arms as he came again, holding her hips steady as he rode out his climax. He was still smiling. Keris brought her hand up, striking him across the face as she tried to free herself from beneath him. He pulled out of her, her thighs growing slick as he wriggled away from him, turning to crawl across the bed away from him. He caught her by her hair, keeping her from her escape. Her held her flush to his chest, his other hand wrapping around her throat.

“I heard a dam is more likely to grow a dwarf’s seed if she enjoys the process,” He growled in her ear, his breath hot. His hand growing tighter around her neck. “You slap me like that again, and I’ll make you suffer truly.” Silver stars floated across Keris’ vision, “Now,” He released her, shoving her from the bed so that she landed on her knees, “Be on your way. I’ve got more pressing matters to worry about.”

* * *

Dain arrived in the afternoon. Keris was summoned with the rest of the Mountain. She pulled on her veil and met her silent escort outside her chamber. Dwalin was at the king’s side so she was left with a spiteful greyback who made no pretense of his disgust with her. As she found her place at the base of the throne, the horns blasted to announce the entrance of the king of the Iron Hills.

Thorin stood before his throne in expectation, his wife at his side. Her stomach had rounded enough that her condition was easily suspected. Dain approached, shaking hands with his cousin, before turning to his daughter. He touched her bump and smiled, “My Fallah, I hate to spoil the good news, but I think I know why I’ve been invited so soon back to your Mountain.”

“Ada,” She preened, her hand atop his, “Welcome.”

“I knew you had it in you, cousin,” Dain turned back to Thorin, clapping his shoulder, “You waited long enough, but your mountain will finally have their heir. A Durin, through and through.”

Keris’ eyes were drawn to the royal nephews stood beside their wives, their mother scowling at the royal scene. For so long, she had been assured of her son’s ascent to the throne and it was all crumbling before her. The dowager glared at Fallah and Keris glanced between them, her gaze catching another's. Dwalin stood his usual sentry close by and had not failed to observe the silent resent radiating from Dis. She only hoped that the silvercloak could protect the queen better than he had herself.

“You must be starving,” Thorin’s words drew her back to the overplayed affair. “We have a feast readied. Enough ale to fill the Mountain threefold.” He announced, leading his cousin back to the door. 

Keris rose and followed some steps behind the rest of the royal party. Dwalin appeared at her shoulder, acting as if he was merely keeping his guard. “Dis’ attentions have shifted,” He said under his breath, “I suspect a plot.”

“Why are you telling me?” Keris hissed.

“I’m not. I’m warning ye,” He kept his voice low. “She may come to you. Seek out your help in lieu of sparing you another lashing.”

“You think I would hurt Fallah?” Keris struggled not to turn and snap at him.

“No, but I know ye would try to hurt Thorin,” He returned. “The queen should not pay for his sins.”

Keris stayed silent as she mulled his words; his intentions. “I wouldn’t hurt her. She is just a dam caught in the malcontent of others. I daresay, she’s had it worse than me.” She watched the dwarrows ahead of her; Dis was whispering to Fili. “Can I ask you something?”

“As ya will,” Dwalin grunted.

“If it came down to it, who would you protect first; your king or your queen?” 

Another silence followed as the silvercloak thought. Keris suspected he had been doing much of that lately. More than ever. For the first time in his life, his loyalties were being tested. “The queen carries the heir to Erebor. I am bound to protect the mountain and its legacy.” He stepped closer, his voice even lower, “I would cut down Thorin before I let any harm befall Fallah.”

The words were stunning. Keris finally allowed herself a glance at Dwalin, quickly refocusing on the train before her. The strongest pillar in the Mountain had been compromised. “Do you think it would come to that?” She asked.

“I don’t know.” Dwalin admitted, “But I would not hesitate if it did.”

Keris was happy for the veil hiding her face. She allowed herself a smile, a rare gesture for her. Her mind began to race. She recited the words she had written only a week ago; ‘ _ Rise or be swept away with the greed which has poisoned this realm..’  _ The waves were starting to roll in, She needed to be prepared when the crashed down. She had only to open the storm walls and brace for the impact.


End file.
